


The Peacock & The Otter

by CarrieMaxwell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 90's Music, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad boy turned good, Barty Crouch Jr has plans of his own, Blaise and Theo are excellent wingmen, Borderline Personality Disorder, Cedric Diggory Lives, Child Abuse, Child manipulation, Crabbe and Goyle latch onto Ron's obsession, Dangerous Obsession, Death Threats, Draco Malfoy is a Good Friend, Draco defies his father, Draco is catching feelings, F/M, Friends to Enemies, Gaslighting, Gentleman Draco Malfoy, Gryffindor/Slytherin Inter-House Relationships, Harry and Draco Become Friends, Hermione also has a lot of good friends, Hermione has a lot of enemies unfortunately, Hermione isn't safe, Hermione studies karate, Jealous Draco Malfoy, Kissing, Lavender Brown is an easy lay, Lucius is an abusive father, Making Out, Narcissa is a supportive mother, Nightmares, Oblivious Harry Potter, Patronus Charm, Pining Draco Malfoy, Possessive Draco Malfoy, Protective Draco Malfoy, Public Display of Affection, Rivals, Romeo and Juliet References, Ron Weasley Bashing, Ron Weasley is a Little Shit, Ron becomes a bully, Ron becomes obssesive, Ron is a jerk, Scheming, Serenading, Shakespearean Sonnets, Slytherin Hermione Granger, Snogging, Teenage Rebellion, Tomboy Hermione, Traitor, Triwizard Tournament, Truce, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, Underage Sex, Underage Smoking, Victim Blaming, Virgin Draco Malfoy, Virgin Hermione Granger, Yuletide Ball, bontanical bonds, change of heart, dramione - Freeform, from Gryffindor to Slytherin, from enemies to friends, good girl gone bad, lucius goes to prison, magical plants, mentions of child abuse, pining Theodore Nott, purebloods vs mudbloods, relationships to forge along as this goes, secret communication, secret feelings, slowburn developing NottPott, switching houses, teenage romance, torn between two friends fighting, triggers posted at the beginning of chapter, violent attacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 68
Words: 370,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25048402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarrieMaxwell/pseuds/CarrieMaxwell
Summary: Draco's always been drawn to Hermione in some way, he has for years and can't explain. It'd be easier if he could just get a moment alone with her to see why, but she's never alone!At the Yule Ball, Draco finally has a moment with Hermione and they share that time coming to a "truce". A battle of brains starts between the two as they form a friendly rivalry to excel in their classes. What started as a "make Weasley jealous" game becomes something more, quickly, and with far reaching consequences.With Harry's Triwizard Tournament taking much of the spotlight, and Hermione acting strangely with Malfoy, Ron's jealousy starts manifesting in ugly ways, until it causes a break in school tradition so shocking that people will speak of it for ages to come.A story where Draco finds his redemption at the pivotal moment, deciding that helping keep Harry alive to prevent the resurrection of Voldemort is more important than bitter school rivalries.
Relationships: Cho Chang/Cedric Diggory, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Lavender Brown/Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 1739
Kudos: 1187





	1. Yuletide Truce

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first Dramione fanfic. Would you believe that I've only come back into writing since the beginning of quarantine? I used to write all the time but never delved into fanfic before so I figured I'd give it a shot. So far so good. I am sucker for the reformed, redeemable, loveable Draco Malfoy fics and I figured that 4th Year was the turning point if he was going to become a good guy. What better way to win the heart of the girl he's obsessed over for the past couple of years than to help protect her best friend and prevent the second rise of the Dark Lord?  
> Not that the decision comes easy or the path not fraught with danger, but he's a smart lad, he'll figure it out.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco finds a rare moment alone with Hermione at the Yule ball.  
> What follows afterwards sets the course for a most interesting year...

Being a Malfoy wasn’t as easy as he made it appear. Even to those who ran in the same social circles knew the weight of the name and the reputation it upheld, the expectation carried onto the younger generations. He’d been raised with the notion he was inherently better than the majority of the magical community despite the obvious proof he was not the best at everything, and his wealth had been the only reason he’d even made it to the Quidditch team.

The past three years at Hogwarts had shown him a completely new aspect of wizards, and how magic wasn’t evenly dispersed among the privileged class. The most annoying example of that had been a muggle born, bushy haired brunette with her hand in the air, the answer always on her lips, and had been dubbed the brightest witch the school had ever seen.

She was infuriatingly intelligent, gifted beyond fairness for being a…. MudBlood.

And she had chosen two of the most pathetic excuses for wizards as her best chums; that Potter, only famous for his parents sacrifice and surviving that instant death blast, and the runt of the Weasley litter. Why? What did those two have that turned her head their way? Weasley was poor. Potter hadn’t even grown up with magic and was a complete infant on the spectrum of talent.

And the Sorting Hat threw her in with their lot. If anything, she was better suited for a Ravenclaw.

It came as quite a surprise then, to find her that evening, alone and crying on a stairwell when he had seen her dancing with the foreign student Krum not but a short while ago. He had seen her enchanting smile, how he escorted her like a princess, and how her dress spun with flourish as he led her onto the dance floor. It had churned his stomach and he left the ballroom in a huff, just trying to put distance between himself and the object of his secret affection.

She had no idea he was in the corridor, lost in her wallowing.

If ever there was a chance to speak with her, alone, now was it. Gathering the courage that had somehow fled him, he approached her on silent feet, until he was but a stair step away.

“What’s wrong Granger, that brute Krum do something?” he asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, as if he couldn’t care less.

His question caught her off guard, causing her to jump a bit and furiously wipe at her face. “What do you care Malfoy? You’re probably giddy seeing me like this.”

After four years of calling her names, picking on her and her friends, he wasn’t surprised that she didn’t believe him capable of caring for her well-being. He’d done his job…perhaps a little too well.

“And no, it wasn’t him.”

He cocked his head to the side. “That Weasley then.” He sneered the name with disdain. “Honestly, what do you see in him?”

She turned away and wrapped her arms around herself, hunching even lower into herself. “For once Malfoy, just stop being you.”

He marched down the final steps and came around to face her. “Who would you rather I be then?”

Her head popped up. That wasn’t something she ever expected him to say. She started looking around; surely his cronies were nearby snorting in delight at this display. “You can tell them to come out now; I’m not falling for it.”

“They’re off enjoying the party like everyone else. No one else is here.”

“Then why are you here?” she eyed him with suspicion.

He shrugged. “Bored. My family throws parties like this all the time.” He cast a sideways glance at her and pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket. “Here. For goodness sake, you’re as pink as your dress.”

When she didn’t reach out for it, he tossed it to her causing her to instantly react and catch it. So perplexed by the seemingly kind gesture, she held it as if she didn’t know what to do with it. If not for the drizzle threatening to spill from her nose she would have kept it still clutched in her grasp.

“Thank you.” She replied in a tiny voice.

“You look better when you smile.”

She flinched at the compliment; certain some venom-laced insult was to follow, braced for some hurtful comment to undo the rare complacent moment. When none came she finally looked up at him.

“You should be laughing and smiling, it is a party after all. A special occasion. If anything, make that Weasley jealous by having fun.”

“Is that what this is? Just make Ron jealous? And here I thought you might actually have been concerned.” She threw the handkerchief back at him and rose to her feet. “Seems no boy in this whole school has any decent manners!”

She gathered up her skirt so as not to step on it and turned to make her exit, the toe of her shoe catching the fabric as she made that first step. As she fumbled dangerously towards the stone steps she felt a pair of hands grasp onto her and pull her back. The moment caught them both by surprise, spending several seconds catching their breaths, his arms still fervently grasping onto her.

When he finally released her, she spun around to face him. His face was flushed with an expression she’d never seen on him before. “I could’ve easily let you fall.” He suddenly said in defense of his actions.

She nodded in acknowledgment of his act. “Duly noted.” She brought a hand up to her face and swept away the hairs that clung to her perspired dampened skin. “Okay…why are you being nice to me?”

He let out a snort. “You say you don’t want me to be me, and then you question when I stop. Make up your mind Granger. What do you want from me?” he burst out, startling her up against the stone wall.

“I don’t understand Draco.” She exclaimed with her hands held out in front of her. “Any of this.”

“I don’t understand it either.” He confessed. “You infuriate me. You and your insistent need to be correct, you always have the answer, don’t you?” He slapped the wall by her head and leaned in. Finally, he was taller than her having hit his growth spurt. He could never forget the day she punched him in the face, cornering him against a boulder, wearing a pink hooded sweater.

Now the tables were turned.

“I can’t help it, if you’re so upset about it why don’t you provide me a challenge in class? Actually try for once? Rather than glower at me for using my brain, prove you have one of your own.” She spat at him, hands now clenched in fists by her sides, the ire in her face rising as she stared right back at him.

God, she was cute when she was angry.

“Or what? You too good to accept a challenge from some lowlife MudBlood like me?” she hissed, the insult striking into his heart as his familiar term was thrown which such disdain. Hearing her use the insult on herself twisted a knot in his chest.

“Don’t…call yourself that.” He pleaded. His sincere tone froze her. Slowly, a hand came up and caught a loose tendril hanging awkwardly out of her updo. He let the curl cling to his finger, seemingly enchanted by the lock.

“W-what are y-you doing…?” she whispered, fumbling her words as her breath caught in her throat.

“Accepting your challenge Granger.” He replied. “Don’t tell me you’re backing out now?”

“C-course not.” She insisted meeting his grey eyes with a determined brown stare.

“That’s more like it.” He chuckled, releasing her captive strand of hair. “I’d rather you look at me like a competent rival than a foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach.”

She blinked several times as he quoted her insult from last year verbatim. Had she really called him that? The memory came back so clearly now. Yes, right before she punched him. They certainly had not been kind to each other in these years.

“Are you asking for a truce?”

He contemplated the word and what it implied. He couldn’t suddenly turn around and be friendly after years of bullying. “An understanding. After all, you do have pathetic taste in friends.”

Ah, there it was, the old familiar snooty and pompous nature sneaking back out. Hermione was surprised he’d gone as long as he had before falling back into routine. If ever they were going to overcome their differences, he would have to stop insulting everyone around him before she could even consider forgiving such behavior. Such prejudice was taught, and if it was taught it could be rehabilitated.

“I could say the same thing about you, but that would mean succumbing to your level.” Her eyes narrowed. He still hadn’t moved from the wall and she was becoming uncomfortable with his proximity, although it was the first time she was able to look upon him and fully drink in his features. Despite their grievances, he was actually kind of handsome. Especially his grey eyes.

Maybe a little too handsome for his own good.

“Okay Draco, do you think you could back up now?” she asked, putting a hand on his chest and pushing gently, hoping it wouldn’t seem rude after the unsteady progress they had made. “Please?” she added.

“What’s the matter Granger, you scared of me?” he teased, taking hold of her hand.

“As if!” she responded vehemently, trying to wriggle it free of his grasp. “But you’re overstepping your bounds and don’t think I won’t punch you again if you don’t stop.”

“Easy there.” He responded softly. He pulled her hand to meet his lips. A gentle kiss graced her knuckles. He’d at least been taught well, when he so chose to use his manners. The moment was fleeting, her hand released just as quickly as he had taken it, with him taking a step back.

“It’s tradition at least, to receive a kiss at the ball.” He stated defensively. “I mean, if you’re going to wallow out here the rest of the night, so be it.”

The distant music and merry laughter filled the air with the silence that followed.

“You’re not as mean as you try to pretend you are.” She said softly, bringing her hand to rest at her chest, as if it would help ease her thundering heart.

“Ha! Don’t delude yourself Granger. I’m just not in the mood today.”

\--Riiiiight—she thought to herself. He’d let enough of his wall down for her to see to the truth. Heavens as to why, perhaps just the festive holiday environment? Whatever the case, she looked forward to seeing him actually prove himself in the classroom.

“What the bloody hell?” a voice rang out in alarm, startling the both of them. They turned to see Ron Weasley, standing in the entrance of the corridor, eyes wide as saucers at what he’d just seen.

“Ah Weasley, don’t you have a Patil twin to tend to? Or have you forgotten which one you paired up with?” Draco laughed.

“Jeez Hermione when I said that about Krum I only meant it as school rivals! Not for you to actually go fraternize with the enemy! Malfoy, of all people?” he shouted, an incredulous look upon his face.

“Ah, so that’s what it was.” The blond chuckled as he stole at glance at her, seeing her embarrassed flush and anger mix into a dangerous mask across her eyes.

“If you hadn’t said it at all I wouldn’t have left. I figured you of all people would’ve at least been happy I even had a date, since you never asked me!”

“Yeah, well I never took you for the type to throw yourself at the next guy that crossed your path either!”

Even Draco flinched at the implied insult as Hermione pushed passed him and stormed up to the ginger, finger in his face. “Don’t you DARE presume to know a thing about me Weasley.” She sneered his name as if it were a Unforgiveable Curse. “It’s like you don’t even see me as a girl.”

“That’s not true, of course I know you’re a girl.” He retorted. “You’re in a blooming dress for crying out loud.”

Hermione wiped at her eye, wishing she had the discarded handkerchief at that moment. “You don’t get it.” She whispered bitterly, her heart breaking. Draco was right, just what had she seen in him?

Draco snatched the handkerchief off the floor, dusted it off and sauntered past the two, pressing it into her hand as he passed by. “Seems like you two have some catching up, and as entertaining as it is, I think I’ll join my chums at the buffet table.” He walked on with an air of aloofness, glancing back over his shoulder one last time, catching her eye as she faced Ron.

In that moment, she knew.


	2. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It becomes apparent that Ron is jealous as a strange partnership develops between Hermione and Draco.

“Come on, I don’t think it’s as bad as you’re imagining it.” Harry said as he nestled into his spot on the couch in common room. Ever since the Yule ball Ron had bent his ear about how he caught Malfoy with Hermione and just how it looked between them.

Harry rolled his eyes as his best friend rattled on and on about how weird Malfoy had acted with giving Hermione his handkerchief and walked off rather than stay and poke fun at the two of them.

“He probably didn’t want to hear your squabbling.” Harry sighed, rolling his head back. He sure was already tired of it. When Ron got fixed on something, he sure stuck to it. Too bad it couldn’t be on a different subject.

Hermione walked in, making no eye contact with either of them as she marched past and went straight for a book on the wall. Whether it was exactly the tome she was looking for or just a random grab, they couldn’t tell, with how she flopped into the large armchair and whipped it open. Her eyes remained fixed on the pages as she flipped through a little harsher than she normally graced the respected bindings.

“More studies?” Harry offered lightly as an ice breaker.

“You should be focusing on your next tournament challenge.” She responded in a flat tone, eyes never leaving the book.

Used to being the brunt of his family’s abuse and verbal lashings, her cold shoulder only hurt for it being so out of character. But he knew she’d come around at some point, as long as Ron didn’t continue to push her buttons. He was more often than not, caught in the middle of their rows, Ron speaking before thinking.

How strange it was that his two best mates were complete opposites. Not just in gender, but in their strengths and weaknesses. He was the calm middle ground between them. They probably wouldn’t even be friends if not for their mutual connection to him. And currently, in light of the newest set of events, his friendship with Ron had been tested. He set his musings aside; she was right about him needing to crack the code for his upcoming challenge.  
…………………….  
Second Challenge: February 24th, 1995

Classes were cancelled for the day for the Triwizard Second Challenge, everyone all atwitter with excitement as to what could happen this time. Students milled in the hallways as they were ushered by the prefects and professors, gathering in their usual groups just buzzing with anticipation for the event.

It was rare to see Potter without either of his two usual partners in crime, and the poor kid looked lost without the either at his side. Not that he didn’t have other Gryffindor’s’ nearby, Neville and Seamus and Lavender pulling up the ranks in support of their House Representative in the tournament as they passed by Malfoy and his entourage.

Not like he cared, but he found himself curiously on alert for that familiar head of wavy brown hair and the considerable lack of it, even the ginger too. Draco followed along to where Professor Snape led them to view the lake where the competitors were standing at the ready. 

“Why are we even here?” he asked, expecting some sort of obstacle course or for one of the judges to summon an aquatic beast for them to fight. It was just the lake, light waves across the surface and boring.

“Each contestant is to rescue someone held at the bottom of the lake. They are each to figure a way to be able to breathe underwater for an hour.” The Head of Slytherin answered. All the professors were informed of this in advance in case it was one of their students that had been selected.

His curiosity piqued, Draco strained his eye and still had not seen either of Potter’s friends. Odd. Why were both missing if he’s only supposed to rescue one of them? He watched as Harry stuffed his mouth with a green herb and struggled as he suddenly grew gills and dived into the water. Cedric’s spell created a bubble around his head while Viktor Krum cast a spell on himself, his head transforming into that of a shark.

A shark? Just what were they going to do down there?

The next following hour was filled with trepidation as everyone intently waited, friends bunched up and chatting among themselves, professors checking time pieces and murmuring along like the students. Whatever was happening in the depths of the lake was beyond their knowledge, until Fleur popped up first, her task a failure. She was gathered by her schoolmates, a towel draped across her shoulders as she shivered and rattled on in French as to what occurred.

“Professor, has anyone ever died doing this?” he asked, eyes fixed on the lake.

“Course not, though I fail to see your concern for those involved.” Snape replied coolly.

“I’m not concerned, per say.” Draco immediately scoffed. “It would just look bad if Diggory or Potter failed that pitifully. Regardless of House, those are still our schoolmates on the line.”

“Precautions are in place Malfoy.” The stoic professor eyed his pupil with guarded suspicion. Was this merely a display of school pride, or something else?

Time etched on until Cedric emerged with Cho, followed shortly by Sharkhead Krum with Hermione on his arm, battling the choppy waves of the lake that were no doubt stirred up by its inhabitants below. Krum’s spell wore off, the animalistic details giving way to humanoid as the powerfully built teen pulled Hermione close, keeping her head above water as he paddled along to the nearest post of onlookers.

Draco felt his grip tighten on the railing as he watched. Hermione let herself be swept up in his strong grip as he carried her out of the water. Her wet clothes plastered against her body, clinging onto newly discovered curves. As she shivered, someone draped a towel upon her to which she accepted generously. She watched with rapt attention as Ron and Fleur’s little sister bobbed to the surface, suddenly awakened with their contact to the air. They floundered, bewildered, with the crowds cheering and calling out to them to direct them back.

Where’s Potter?

It had been instilled in him long ago to keep his emotions in check, his face impassive lest others know what he was thinking, feeling, and use it against him. He certainly couldn’t afford to let a hint of concern be seen here, as he painted a blank appearance in wait of Potter’s dramatic arrival from the lake, soon swarmed by fellow classmates and friends. He nearly broke though, when he saw Hermione grab him and plant a kiss to the top of his head.

How dare she…

The hustle and bustle continued as the judges debated on his score, he being lovingly cascaded in a towel and numerous friends, led away to be dried off with others. The excitement undulated with the flow of the audience as the professors began to turn and usher their students back to the campus grounds. The rest of the day was theirs to celebrate as they pleased; the professors knew no one would be able to concentrate on schoolwork even if they tried to implement classes.

Using the opportunity, he slipped away from the masses and strolled down to Hogsmeade Village. With a magic note sent off, he waited for his cohort to arrive at their destination. While sipping a Butterbeer, he cast his grey eyes back at the silhouette of the school, recounting the recent events. Potter needed to be taken down a peg, and he knew how to do it.

The woman arrived, acting nonchalant as she took a seat at a table outside of the shop. “So, what’s so urgent?” she inquired, shifting her glasses.

“I have new tidbit for your next article.”

She flipped out her notepad and quill, set to write whatever was said as Draco divulged his fabrication of Hermione Granger two-timing her boyfriend Harry with the Bulgarian student Viktor Krum, who had been her date and dance partner at the Yuletide Ball.

“Juicy.” Rita replied, already thinking of how to sensationalize this even further.  
………………………

In class the following day he’d almost been too distracted with the tabloids to remember his challenge with Hermione, seeing as how they were in every classroom, every dorm, and in practically everyone’s hand. Snickers and giggles and jokes were made the moment The Trio arrived in the room, their faces all a matching angered flush at the rumors.

They took their seats, doing their best to not respond to the jeers and ogling from their fellow classmates. Celebrated as hero one day, the brunt of jokes the next. Draco felt slightly vindicated, after all, Moody had turned him into a ferret for everyone’s enjoyment and he’d dealt with the humiliation of that before this whole focal point was brought back to that damned Potter and his uncanny talent for capturing attention.

The Boy Who Lived also lived for the tabloids, it would seem.

“Settle down class.” Professor Flitwick ordered. “Let’s resume where we left off at.” He had the class open their standard issue book of spells, grade 4 and bring up the chapter for Banishing Spells. In the week before Yule he had let most of the class slide by with playing games or use his room as a study hall to catch up on work unloaded unto them by the remaining staff.

Hermione was highly proficient in Charms and excelled the class with little effort, so it was immediately noticed when she fell behind in opening her book, flipping through wildly to the correct chapter, and seemed to struggle just reading the introductory to banishment spells.

“Can anyone tell me what the spell is to banish an object, and where the term derives from?” Flitwick asked, expecting Hermione’s hand in the air even before he finished addressing the class. He was unexpectedly surprised when Draco’s hand came up.

“Malfoy, yes?”

He cleared his throat and straightened his back. “From the Latin “depulsio”, meaning “driving/pushing away”. Also is similar to repulse meaning "drive/push away with force", although this is a precise antonym to attract, literally "pull towards". It could also be seen to be derived from the English word pulse (as in a pulse of energy) and the prefix "de" which would make it mean "a negative pulse of energy." 

The class fell silent. Heads turned.

“That is…absolutely correct. Ten points to Slytherin.” The dwarven teacher replied with a wavering voice.

Ron nudged Hermione. “What’s with you? That was an easy one!”

“If it’s so easy then why wasn’t your hand up?” she snapped at him. She turned her head, shoving her chin into the hold of her left hand and cast her eyes off to the row of desks in her view, catching the smirk of the blond with grey eyes.

By the end of class, Flitwick called Hermione over for a word. He was concerned for his star pupil. “Miss Granger, is-”

“We’re not dating!” she interrupted vehemently.

The little man leaned back from her outburst. “Ah, I see….”

“I’m sorry…I thought…”

“It’s alright Miss Granger, don’t let these sensational grabs for attention deter you. Once the tournament is over Skeeter won’t have any gossip to conjure up.”

When she exited class, she was surprised to see Draco leaned against a wall, arms crossed, with a smug look on his face. “Well aren’t you generous today? I was certain I was going to be faced with a challenge this morning.”

She glowered at him. “You try having your reputation smeared in some fanatical article full of lies.”

He shrugged. “How do I know if it’s not true? After all, you’ve been awfully cozy with Krum since he arrived. And everyone knows you’re not far from Potter or Weasley for any length of time.”

“They’re called friends Malfoy, just like you have your loyal little followers. And Viktor is a guest; I’m only being a gracious host to someone who has at least been kind to me.”

“Ha!” Draco scoffed, pushing off from the wall and walking in line with her. “That Bulgarian jock can’t even say your name properly”, he chuckled, “How can you even understand anything he says?”

She gripped her books tightly. “At least he tries to say my name.”

They walked on towards their next class in strained silence. He of course, opened the door for himself and entered, leaving it to close on her and struggle with as she held her bundle of books. She stormed in and heavily slapped the stack of them on her desk with a resounding thud that shook nearby desks. 

“Quite the entrance Miss Granger.” Minerva McGonagall coolly replied, the woman was hardly ever ruffled. Hermione sat without apology and flipped open the textbook. A few whispers caught the professors’ sharp ear and she turned on the perpetrators with an equally sharp glare.

“I will not tolerate the continuance of unsolicited gossip by an irreputable source.” She sternly admonished to the entire class. “Now if you don’t mind, we shall be transfiguring guinea-fowl into guinea-pigs for today’s lesson.”

With a flourish, she unfurled a cage with young guinea-fowl birds. “Before we begin, can anyone tell me a significant fact about these birds?”

Sharing a rival glance at each other, Draco and Hermione both raised their hands. Momentarily perplexed by the synchronized behavior, McGonagall eyed both the students. 

“Since I am sure you no doubt have an answer, Miss Granger, why don’t we let Malfoy surprise the class for once?” She may be Head of Gryffindor, but if anything McGonagall was a fair woman.

Releasing a huff, Hermione reluctantly put her hand down. She rapped her fingertips across her desk with ire as Draco stood up and in a confident, smug tone, answered with “They are called pet speckled hens or original fowl and are endemic to Africa.”

“Quite correct Malfoy. Ten points for Slytherin.”

He received some claps of admiration from his fellow Slytherins as she passed through the rows of desks, setting a bird between two students to share. They were to each have their turn at it, keeping track of each other’s attempts and failures. At the end of class, the marks were tallied, whomever brought in the most successes would gain points for their House. It came down to the wire as each pair showed their scores, Hermione bringing in the highest for Gryffindor to the majority’s delight, until Draco stepped up with his Pansy’s tallied marks, tying it evenly with hers.

Twice now, the Slytherin student had surprised his Transfiguration professor. And in a positive way, which was all the more shocking. “Well, seeing as we have a tie, we shall split the points evenly. Five points each to Gryffindor and to Slytherin. Well done class.”

It was just the beginning of a noticeable rivalry between the two, branching out from the little whispers among friends and fellow Housemates, eventually on towards the other houses’ and throughout the faculty. Healthier gossip by far than whom Harry might be dating and anything else Rita Skeeter was publishing. It was a nice distraction to fill the void until the next the tournament challenge anyways.

After several days of this carrying on, Ron had had enough and cornered Hermione in the library as she was getting a book. “Ok, so something did happen between the two of you. You haven’t been the same since the Yule ball.”

She rolled her eyes as the book slid off the shelf. “Heaven forbid I have a conversation with someone outside of Gryffindor.”

“A conversation? You know you can’t trust him!” he barked, completely disregarding the rule for silence.

“Ron, settle down, you’re making a scene.” She hissed. “And if you’re so concerned about what we discussed, then maybe you should pay more attention in class.”

He scoffed. “That’s your answer for everything. Study this, learn that, pay attention…You’re such a stick in the mud, ya know that?”

She spun around on him, shoving the heavy tome into his chest and backed him up against the bookcase behind him with such ferocity that it shook for a second. Her once warm chocolate gaze was laced with poison as she glared him down, watching the color drain from his face.

“I don’t know what I ever saw in you, Weasley.” Her voice was a low whisper, the calm before the storm. “You are nothing but a jealous prat.”

She yanked the book back from him and stormed off to another section, leaving her book bag and other belongings at the table unattended so she could read in peace. Ron smoothed down his shirt and adjusted his tie before leaving the row, rankling in the sight of Malfoy, standing aloof not too far off, some parchment in hand.

“You really pissed her off this time Weasley.” He chuckled, holding a sheet out and making it levitate with ease at the whisper of Wingardium Leviosa. “At the rate you’re going you’ll be lucky if Potter stays by your side.”

“Shut up Malfoy.” Ron sighed, “No one cares what you think.”

And with that, he left the library, dejected and scornful. There was slight ache in his chest as he exited the great room, one that would only continue to grow in the weeks to come. 

As for Draco, his levitating parchment origamied itself into the shape of a peacock and flew right towards Hermione’s discarded bag, slipped in unseen. There was different kind of ache in his chest, one that would continue to grow in the weeks to come.  
……………………….


	3. Animosity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The once Golden Trio starts to fall apart, slowly yet surely.

Hermione was cracking down on the books harder than usual-if that were at all possible-and it made the rest of the Gryffindors nervous to say the least. She tolerated no nonsense in her ever growing study area, the mounds of books and stacks of parchment forming a wall around her in her designated corner of the Common Room, and after just a few approaches of any classmate, they had all taken the death glare from her to heart and backed away.

Ron had callously “accidently” knocked a stack over with a jutted elbow, though he was fooling no one with the act. Even Harry had shaken his head in obvious disdain at the childish prank and knelt to collect the books and hand them back to an almost teary eyed Hermione. Ron snickered and dashed off, leaving Harry to apologize on his behalf and receive the brunt of the Granger Glare.

Even though they were on the same team, and holding different positions on the Quidditch team, it seemed that at every opportunity, Ron was trying to usurp Harry’s efforts. The first few jostles and body checks went unnoticed as they played off each other, it was something expected in same team practice in order to better learn the strengths and weaknesses of their fellow teammates. Harry shook it off as his unrestrained way of dealing with the unresolved issue between his self and Hermione before the doubt crept upon him that Ron might actually be delivering some of these blows to him on purpose.

Though why, he couldn’t say.

The other members of the team had taken to reminding Ron to watch his contact, this isn’t Muggle football after all, to which he’d throw a snarky retort that he was at least playing like they should be, as if every game was against Slytherin. While they were known for underhanded tricks and cheap blows, and had equipped their team with the latest broomsticks on the market, they were just as bloodthirsty as the rest of the school when it came to a match. They wanted to win just as badly.

If she couldn’t be found in her corner of the Common Room, she was in the library naturally. Although not a fan of heights, for books she could be brave enough to venture for them, taking to the upper level and even climbing the ladder to reach for them. 

He wasn’t surprised to find her, predictable little Gryffindor.

He watched as she let out a sigh of resignation before gripping the wooden slide rail as she placed her foot on the first rung. She took each step with care, precision, looking as if she were secretly praying as she ascended higher. It was oddly entertaining. No wonder she only received mediocre scores in Flying. The Great Granger was afraid of heights.  
It wasn’t much, but it was something he could tease her about, just to watch the pink of her cheeks brighten and her lips tighten, at least her attention would be fixed on him, if only for that moment.

It was the only thing that had worked, given how he was not to associate with Muggle-borns if he could help it. Squibs you could pity, half-bloods were to be kept at arm’s length depending on the bloodline. But the sprouting new generation of Muggles bearing magically gifted children was disconcerting for a pureblood supremacist like Lucius Malfoy. Throw in the added weight of his family’s wealthy status and it greatly diminished the gene pool of potential friends and future spouses. Pity, actually, that the Weasley’s were infamously poor and had adopted many muggle traditions to save their galleons. 

To think, if Weasley wasn’t the scraping the bottom of the barrel and wearing generations old hand-me-downs, that he and the Malfoys could rule the school. Well, maybe still not with Ron personally, but perhaps his older more competent brothers, after all Percy was a Prefect and Head Boy.

The twins were devilish little buggers, their combined mentality for pranks and deception made them nearly Slytherin worthy. 

One had to wonder just how Mrs. Weasley managed…

Draco was ripped from his musing as Hermione struggled to reach for a book and slipped. The book crashed with a heavy thud, her voice caught in her throat as she immediately curled into the fetal position to protect her head and face as she plummeted. 

“Arresto Momentum!”

With just a handful of inches between her and the floor, she came to a sudden stop, her hair swishing over her bewildered face and cascading across the wooden planks. She hadn’t had time to yelp let alone whip out her wand and incant the spell to save herself, yet someone had. 

She was unceremoniously plopped on the floor, the resounding thud of her hitting the wooden planks just a minor bumping than the potential neck break it could’ve been. She swept her unruly mane of hair back to address her savior, but only heard the heavy clacking of polished heels off in the distance. 

For several moments, her body trembled with the reality she that she could’ve very well died from a fall like this, hence her utter distaste for the aspect of flying. For all the usual coming and goings from the library, no one had come to her aid; no one poked their head up at the tome hitting the floor from such a height, no one even knew she was in this section.

Except there was someone.

Was it the same person who had snuck their skillfully origami gift in her satchel?  
……………………

Draco panicked. Plain and simple.

What had started out as a reconnaissance mission to study his intellectual adversary had suddenly become a spur-of-the-moment rescue with a single slip of a polished penny loafer and ladder rung. What a crisis that would’ve been! Bad enough the school had been inhabited by dangers of the norm, but the addition of possessed Professor Quirrell, the Basilisk, and the pompous teabag that was second year’s DADA professor and there were untold dangers that Golden Trio had prevented. 

But to be seen, discovered, and then interrogated as to what he was doing in the library when he normally spent his time hanging with his dimwitted crew was not something he was prepared to deal with. And although he knew the girl was initially fine, he hadn’t completely mastered the spell nor had much control in holding it for any length of time-after all, who really needs to suspend someone in mid-air for anything? 

Well, obviously, he did.

It was stupid. Why did he even give an owl’s shit about this….Muggleborn anyway? That smug little know-it-all who was practically a walking library herself and the prized point winning pony for Gryffindor, McGonagall’s favorite pet. She had the respect of nearly all the staff, and the other Houses even sang her praises…some were Slytherin, whispered as they were to spare Snape the indignity of hearing it.

If she had been placed in Slytherin there would never be a need for the subterfuge, he could go to her plain as day and partner for projects, notes, answers that yes, even he might need. And if she was a pureblood then neither parent nor the upper echelon of wizarding society would question any sort of relationship, nay they would damn well encourage it!

Honestly, all this talk of how purebloods were so superior had lost its luster soon after his arrival here. He’d seen far too many talented students of caliber that often put some of the purebloods to shame. Probably a side-effect of the ever-narrowing genetic pool among the ranks, loyalty to the Dark Lord notwithstanding. Ruddy politics, oh how it made an ever selective bunch even more selective. 

What a load of tosh that was. 

He’d known long ago he was nowhere near the expectation his father had of him. Constantly reminded of it, especially after second year…. He still couldn’t swallow the bitter pill of knowledge that his father was behind the release of the Basilisk and an attempt to resurrect He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. Name calling and silly pranks and all out right practical bullying was thing, murder was another. And that was where he had drawn the line. 

And as long as there were people like his father, with wealth and power and influence and access to the school, students like Hermione weren’t safe.  
………………………….

After a particularly muddy round of Quidditch practice, the boys came bustling into the Gryffindor Common Room, dripping their filth as they made their way across. And while it was true that the smattering of books and parchment that was Hermione’s crack down study session was about, it was not however, open for targeting with a muddy boot.  
The crunch and splosh of a wet leaf and slip of mud off his boot onto her freshly written notes was like that of her own heart breaking, the sound quiet yet dirty.

“Ronald Weasley!” Hermione shouted, jumping to her feet. “Have you no respect at all?”

“Just scourgify it and it’ll be fine.” He replied dismissively, shucking off his gear, bit by bit, more droplets of mud flinging onto nearby furniture and papers.

“You’re a pig.” She uttered in a cold, harsh yet sorrowful voice.

“And you’re a stuck up little swot with buckteeth.” He snapped back.

Hermione immediately brought a hand to her mouth, covering the offending two incisors she despised as the room fell silent. One could hear a feather drop.

“Ok, that’s enough guys.” Harry stated, stepping in between his best friends. “Not like I’ve got enough on my plate without the two of you having a row every time you’re in the same room. For Christ sakes’ Ron, I know your mother taught you better than this. And Hermione, it would help if you did kinda tidy up your study space, just a bit?” he added, which he had realized a second too late that he should not have said.

“Fuck the two of you.” She spat. 

A collective gasp ushered from the breaths from the onlookers. The air crackled with electricity as Hermione grabbed her wand and hexed the both of them before whipping around, terrifying the audience that were open targets themselves, and levitated the books before sending them like missiles back to their respected shelfs, causing mates to dodge for their lives as heavy volumes flew with abandon.

Papers whirled around her like a tornado as she both scourgified and levitated, then organized them all with an angry flick of her wand. They followed her wand like notes of music led by a conductors baton into her folder and then into its snug place inside her satchel. Her hair whooshed about like the snakes of Medusa, giving her lion’s mane of hair a terrifying visage. 

With the chaos of all of these happening at once: the hexes, the books, the papers, some students had the sense to run rather than watch the maelstrom and fetch the nearest professor. After the studious amount of papers had tucked into her book bag the pillows and couch cushions began to rise and hurl themselves at the two floor bound boys and pummel them.

“Miss Granger!” the shrill and authoritative call of their Head of House broke the chaotic scene, breaking the teenager’s concentration and thus causing everything to instantly fall on the floor.

Hermione shook her head as if waking from a daze, suddenly aware of the hell she had just rained down. Before she could say anything, her wand had been confiscated by the Deputy Headmistress whose disapproving and concerned gaze melted Hermione’s former might into shame.

“Before I ask ‘what do you have to say for yourself’ is everyone alright?” the elder addressed the room. Despite just being momentarily terrified, no one had actually been injured, even the pillow beaten boys who hustled to their feet. Ron sputtered at the indignation, claiming he was assaulted and that Hermione be punished while Harry had merely brushed himself off and apologized.

“I beg your pardon?” McGonagall replied.

“I’m sorry Hermione, about telling you to tidy your work space. You always do, so I shouldn’t have gone about it the way I did.”

Her lip trembled as she nodded in acknowledgement, words having failed her.

“Was that what this was about?” the teacher gaped, already having reached her threshold of what more she could tolerate today.

“With me, yes.” Harry answered.

“Hey all I did was walk in and get a little mud on something, no big deal.” Ron defensively but unconvincingly snickered to justify the recent reign of terror.

“Go to the bath.” She waved dismissively to them. “And you, come with me.” She addressed her newest problem child.  
……………………..

Following McGonagall out of the Common Room and into her own personal office, Hermione remained silent, recounting what she had just done and how easily she had lost control of herself.

\--How did I even do all that?—

It wasn’t until they were inside, door firmly shut, that the old Scottish woman finally spoke.

“My dear, do you know how many rules you just broke?”

Actually, Hermione did.

“And do you know how many spells you were casting?”

On that, she wasn’t entirely sure.

“I’ve noticed the ever so subtle shift in your studies….Is everything alright?”

She hadn’t expected the warmth and concern in the usual strict woman, but welcomed it nonetheless. Truth was…things weren’t alright although she couldn’t say exactly how.  
“Forgive my abruptness for this next inquiry, but Miss Granger….have you reached certain…biological phase?”

For a moment, the ever-so-ready-with-an-answer student had nothing but a curious expression until it dawned on her.

\--Oh.—

It had happened over the summer--thank Merlin—and the experience of bra and menstrual pad shopping with her mother had been one mortifying muggle excursion as history would have it. Not to mention the extra toiletries and accommodations she had packed in her trunk. But was this really the cause? Or was this an out the old woman was granting her, like a Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free card?

Hermione, usually the first one to spout the truth, just nodded and took the offered reason—no, excuse—with a nod that normally would’ve twisted a knot in her stomach knowing she had lied to a teacher, and her Head of House.

Today though, Hermione didn’t feel all that much like a Gryffindor.  
……………………….


	4. Rumors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Between the salacious tabloid articles and school gossip, it’s a wonder how anyone gets any assignments done.

News of “Hurricane Hermione” spread like a magical wildfire the following day. It was too crazy to be believed at first, but it was from the Gryffindor’s own mouths—too many of them—to discount it otherwise. And since when were they the type to create a lie upon one of their own?

In the halls, students who had heard the fantastical story made a hasty retreat when she walked through, plastering themselves to the corridor walls as she passed. Those who hadn’t quickly caught on begged for details, eliciting gasps and wide eyed stares. Was it fear? Admiration? She couldn’t tell and didn’t care.

It did test her patience though.

Ron’s theatrics on the matter didn’t help, exaggerating the extent of her short lived wrath into something that should’ve earned her some severe punishment of sorts, but since it had been a minor infraction, McGonagall hadn’t even deducted points nor assigned Granger detention.

Harry had been all apologies, verbally and silently, and on behalf on his redhead buddy who just couldn’t shut up about it. Honestly, he felt Ron had it coming. He was just sorry he turned some of that wrath on himself in the moment, but she hadn’t hurt them. She wasn’t Slytherin after all.

Classes had been--and it hurt to use the word--annoying, with all the snickers and giggles and pretend scares made at her every move. Every House was having their fun at it, for once having something to brandish over the bookworm and unsettle her during lessons. Surely they’d forget it in a day or two, there would be some other blunder from someone else to steal their flighty attentions.

Rather than take solace with Ginny during dinner, Hermione had retreated to the kitchen and kindly asked a resident House Elf to pack her a meal, which she packed in her satchel and headed off onto the grounds to eat alone. If only food and drink were allowed in the library, she’d have been there in a heartbeat. But the fresh air beckoned and she needed to clear her head. Sort things out.  
……………………

Observant as always, Draco watched in the manner that Granger was being disregarded by her own housemates. Odd indeed for the lions to be turning on one of their own, especially their little princess. While he made a point in collecting and keeping information—for nothing was more valuable than a dirty secret—he steered clear of straight up gossip, especially gossip he was fabricating for the hell of it. But this, this was different.

Lavender Brown spearheaded the rumor mill and had come to Ron’s defense a little too eagerly, something that wouldn’t even blip on Malfoy’s radar had Harry Potter himself not responded with a sharply hissed whisper that carried just loud enough and with just the right tone to make him believe there was weight to it.

Now that his interest had been piqued, he just had to know what brought it on.

So he watched. In each class they shared. In the halls. During lunch. On the Quidditch pitch. And in the Great hall where she excused herself from her own Weasley sidekick and spirited away.

Perfect.  
…………………….

She’d taken herself nearly to Hagrid’s Hut before she realized she had come out for solitary reprieve, the muscle memory playing out strongly. So many times she and the boys would be snooping/sleuthing/investigating something rather than their schoolwork. It was amazing they passed at all. Honestly, who has the time for all these distractions? Dark Lord zealots be damned, all she wanted was to just go to school like a normal witch!

She came upon the edge of a pond that sported its own little mound and a young willow. Not a Whomping Willow, but a normal one. Even the wizarding world needed mundane ingredients at times. The grounds all around the greenhouse were separated by the two, as some were natural abhorrent of each other. She laid out her school robe, sat crossed legged and opened the packed meal. A near miniature feast popped out, enchanted to fit of course, she should’ve known. There was far too much food for her to eat alone.  
Plucking at this and that, she sighed.

Just what was it exactly that had set her off? Sure, Ron could be a complete dunce at times and really wedge his foot in his mouth, but he always bounced back with a joke, a smile, a hug…something… But lately….

“So, is this where the reigning queen of terror now spends her time?” a voice cut through her thoughts like an icy breeze. She turned and found a nonchalant Malfoy, sauntering up to her, hands in his pockets.

Without missing a beat, she had a retort ready. “Reigning queen of terror? After one day? Looks like you’re falling behind then Malfoy, I might actually outrank you.”

He smirked. Clever and quick.

“So you heard then.” She tossed in the air after his silent response.

“Kinda hard not to. Not with how loud Weasley is in letting everyone know just how much of an arse you made of him.” He snickered. “Honestly, if he had any tact he’d keep that close to his chest.” He kicked a nearby rock so that it rolled to her knee, the contact cold as it fell against her skin.

She couldn’t refute that, picking up the chunky rock and tossing it back and forth between her hands like it was a baseball. “You’re dying to hear the details, straight from the horse’s mouth, aren’t you?”

“Since you’re not jumping to his defense like the simpering twit that Brown is, I’m guessing there’s an air of truth to it. Mind if I sit?”

She missed the catch of the rock and nearly earned a bruised ankle for it.

Malfoy. Asking to sit with her. Did that just honestly happen?

She turned her head upward and then looked around. He was alone. Again.

It seemed he remembered his manners better when he was alone.

A nod was all she could respond with. And she watched carefully as he undid his school robe, laid it on the grass and sat next to her, little more than a foot away. Out of habit, she offered the enormous helping of food on the platter beside her, but then stopped herself, starting to slide it back when he tugged on the other side of it and she halted.

“If you’re offering.” He said with his hand still in place. “I accept.”

“G-go ahead.” She swallowed, still not trusting what she was seeing.

“Honestly Granger, you stare any harder and I might just blush.” He joked, eyes still on the pond. “I’m alone. I’m not scheming. I just want to know what Weasley did to make you go all…well…Hurricane Hermione on him.”

She swished some air through her nostrils. “He stepped on my homework.”

The snort and peel of laughter that erupted from him was unexpected and genuine. A true laugh of delight. “Shit, remind me to never cross you in the library.” He chuckled, though it ended quickly, the memory of her falling playing in his mind again. “No really…what’d he do?”

She shrugged. What hadn’t he done might be a shorter list if she was going to be honest with herself. His shortcomings were making themselves known the more she thought about it. But he was her friend. Why though? He wasn’t the normal sort she’d been chums with in her muggle school years…Was it really only due to a degree of separation merely because they both had stumbled into Harry’s life and caught up in his hijinks?

“Taking this long to answer, I’m sure he’s done something.”

“He is my friend. We’re just having a rough patch. Probably the stress of the Tournament is all.”

“Bollocks.” He muttered, throwing the chicken leg he’d finished gnawing on for some forest creature to thrive on. “Potter I can see you being pals with, you’re the brain and he’s the brawn. But that ginger lout? What’s he bring to the table? Laughs? You could do better than him.”

“Says the boy who’s targeted me since day one on not being worthy enough to be in this school.”

“Says the girl who literally wipes the floor with everyone academically.” He shot back. “Even as a pureblood, Weasley’s got nothing on you.”

\--Was that a compliment? Backhanded as it was—

“I guess that lion loyalty runs deep. You’re not even denying it. And yet, you tell him to fuck off and beat him with pillows.”

She picked up the rock and plunked it into the pond, the splash a momentary distraction from this distraction. Malfoy was a confusing person to figure out, and it was not helping her thoughts. He wasn’t entirely wrong, and that was the problem. He wasn’t being smug about it either, which was weird.

“For being known to prattle on, you’ve been awfully tight lipped.” He quipped, plucking another morsel off the platter. 

“Malfoy…just what exactly are you doing here with me? This isn’t like last time.”

“Of course it isn’t, we’re outside, eating dinner.” He said dryly.

“Yes. Where people could see us.” She replied in a low tone, as if he needed it pointed it out to him.

He sighed. “I came here hoping for a stimulating conversation with someone capable to challenge me intellectually. Perhaps I must have been mistaken.” He rose to his feet abruptly and dusted off his slacks. “Being around those two must’ve dulled your senses.”

“If you could stop insulting my friends every five minutes, perhaps we could talk.” She snapped before realizing how harsh she sounded. She cleared her throat. “Sorry. It’s just been a rough day.” She was too emotionally beat down to care she’d apologized to Malfoy, of all people.

But for once he had nothing to do with it.

“Are you asking me to stay?”

“Yes, if you really just want to talk.” She hugged her knees up to her chest.

“Then at least look at me and say so.” He ordered, but not with the bite he delivered when bossing his friends around. Curiously, she turned her head at him. 

\--Wait, how did this get turned on me? I didn’t even invite him in the first place!—

“Would you care to join me Malfoy?” she asked, ready for him to just laugh and say how gullible she was, but instead he sat back down.

Once he did though, a heavy silence followed. Neither had a conversation planned, expecting the other to be the one to put an end to this uncharted ground they found themselves on. But leave it to Hermione to turn the focus onto classes, as she brought up Potions and Herbology. A conversation naturally flowed from her then, to which Draco easily fell in routine with.

After a lengthy discussion on chemical reactions and compatibility the sky started to darken, their meal mostly consumed, the tension between dissolved as if they had not spent the last four years as bitter enemies. Only until a lull in their conversation lazily hung in the air overhead did they taken in the time.

“Oh jeez, we’d better head back in, it’s nearly curfew!” she exclaimed, reaching blindly for her bag in a minor panic, hand brushing against his for a moment.

There was a little jolt of electricity as her fingers grazed the top of his hand. She instantly pulled back, flustered. “S-sorry, static shock.” She sputtered as he picked up the bag strap and stood. She brushed her skirt in a nervous twitch, surprised to see him offer his hand in assistance.

Seeing her hesitation, Draco ordered her to her feet, jolting her into action. Once her hand was in his she was gracefully lifted to her feet instead of the gruff pull she expected. “Honestly, don’t Potter and Weasley have any manners?” he snorted, seeing clearly that no one had ever offered a hand to her before.

“They see me as a capable witch—which I am—and don’t make platitudes on behalf of my gender.”

“Which is just a fancy way of saying they don’t know how to treat a lady. I’ve never seen them open a door for a girl or offer to carry her books.” He scoffed just as quickly as she had to him. A moment later he collected his robe, motioned with his hand for her to step aside and collected hers. He slung both over one arm as she picked up the enchanted platter, shaking the remnants off into the grass for the little night dwelling creatures and watched it shrink down to a compact size. She kept it in her palm as if it were a talisman to keep her grounded.

The past hour or so—had it even been more than that?—had seemed surreal and it felt a shame that it needed to come to an end. 

“It’s a shame we have to go back to hating each other, I rather liked having a civil conversation with you.” She said, voicing her thoughts. Damn stupid Gryffindor bravery, why’d she let him in on that?

“Yeah, you’re not all just facts and answers.” He replied offhandedly as they began their trek back to castle. “You could make a thousand galleons tutoring some Slytherins in a flash.” 

It was then that Hermione concluded that Draco had truly sought out an intellectual conversation, something he wasn’t getting from his fellow housemates. So starved for it, he sought out his own enemy. 

But that hadn’t been the case during Yule Ball….

“Oh Malfoy!” she suddenly called out, reaching for her bag, slung up on his shoulder—when did he do that?—and pulled up the flap. “I laundered the handkerchief and even scourgi-”

“There’s no need for that.” He said, pulling her own bag away from her reach. “I don’t need it back.”

His tone cut her. “Oh…right…not like you don’t have a thousand more…” she mumbled.

Something in him twinged. “True as that is…I gave it to you. Just keep it.” He took a longer stride, forcing her to scurry in order to keep the pace. She may have filled out in curves, but not in height, unlike some…

When they reached the castle, Malfoy held open the door for her this time, to which she nearly stopped short and bumped into him. It was one last gentlemanly act he could afford to do before they resumed their usual antagonistic behavior. He couldn’t understand why he wanted to prolong it; it was as if their little chat had meant something more than just talking potion dynamics. And when she finally walked past him, he caught a whiff of her luscious chestnut locks and that scent he could only assume was a muggle created shampoo, strange and unidentifiable.

Rounding the corner of the entrance they took, he shucked off her bag and handed her a robe off his arm with less than gentlemanly grace but did not dump them upon her. He flung his robe over his shoulder and with a final glance, bid her a goodnight. “Get going Granger, before they send a search party.”

“G’night Malfoy.” She replied in a hushed tone, something she never thought she’d hear herself say.

They parted ways, their House dorms in opposite directions. Godric Gryffindor placed his in a proud and prominent tower while Salazar Slytherin settled for the dungeons, heavens know why. It clearly was testimony as to the personality clash of the male half of the Four Founders. And while students of other houses may learn the location of the other dorms, they were never permitted the password and allowed access.

Hermione didn’t like the fact that there were places in this magnificent castle that she would never be able to set foot in, merely for her gender and House, and there was only so much the professors would allow in the standard issue of Hogwarts, A History and any of the other tomes regarding the layout of the grounds. Even for a clever student such as herself, she did not have all the answers to her questions and curiosities.

She couldn’t save herself from the barrage of inquiry from Ginny, who’d gone near half mad when she couldn’t locate her bestie-not even in the library-and almost wrangled Harry to help look for her. Draco had been right about the search party.

\--Draco? Since when do I even think of him by his first name?—

“I told you Gin, I needed air. I was actually out on the grounds.” She brushed dirt off her skirt for emphasis and flung her robe in the air, jangling it so loose grass blades fell for viable proof. When she whirled over to her wardrobe to hang it up she caught a light waft of scent permeate from the hefty black fabric.

As Ginny went back to her Wizardly Weekly magazine, Hermione noticed the feel of the robe was off somehow…it was silkier. The fabric shinier and of noticeable higher quality than the one she’d been donning for the past three years. Curiousier still, that scent….it smelled like…

\--Wait a minute—

She pulled back the left arm, revealing the insignia of the House of Slytherin.

Inhaling sharply, heart thundering in her chest, eyes wide as saucers, the only word that came to mind was one glorious, all-encompassing curse.

FUCK.  
…………………….


	5. Robes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robes are a standard part of student dress code, so do you go about trading a robe back to someone without gaining attention?

The thought of Hermione having to climb several floors worth of stairs—up—the pompous Gryffindor tower settled differently in his stomach tonight than in other he’d ever had since attending Hogwarts.

\--Wait, Hermione? Since when do I even grace her with her given name?—

Shaking off the momentarily lapse in his mental dialogue, he continued musing that perhaps all those years of constant cardio had certainly shaped her calves, that he taken notice of as she sat crossed legged, her pleated skirt flared out in her lap but eventually bunched up as their conversation carried on. If she wasn’t rubbish on a broom he’d bet she could fly laps around some of her housemates, she certainly had the legs for it.

\--Her legs? The fuck is wrong with me?—

Merlin’s beard, hormones were a weird thing. He’d been mentally prepared to start seeing some of the Slytherin girls differently, but certainly not a Gryffindor with a penchant for getting under his skin. 

He descended into the depths the school’s bowels, spoke the password and entered his Common Room, only rousing a few heads. Slytherins were known for their exceptionally tight circles, even within themselves. There were some snakes that just did not even compare to others. He was greeted naturally; one did not just ignore the presence of Slytherin’s Prince, and made small talk before heading to the boy’s dorm. It currently stood empty. Small blessing there with him still riding the high of being in her presence for such an uninterrupted length of time.

If anyone had seen them together, what possible reason could he even excuse it for? Even though they were talking about class, not sneaking off to snog. Oh as if. Though, if he had set that goal in mind, he probably could’ve. Girls flocked to him. They’d been getting bold as of late, he wouldn’t have any trouble coaxing one to his side. Pansy had agreed to attend the Yule Ball with him, lot of good that was, and she was still holding a silent grudge. Unlike a certain ginger Gryffindor would was openly being brash to test the wrath of a witch beyond his caliber.

Had he really just stepped on her homework? No doubt it might’ve been the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back but honestly, he’d had given anything to be a fly on the wall and see that hurricane for himself.

While musing, he slung the robe off his shoulder and shook it, freeing tiny granules of dirt when that scent reached up and snuck into his nostrils. That unexplainable scent he had no words for, for it smelled nothing of the wizarding world. Intoxicating in its exoticness. He’d have to figure it out or it would drive him crazy. But why was it so strong, clinging to his robe as if she had rubbed all over it like a cat?

He opened up the bundle and thanked the Four Founders he had the dorm to himself with the gasp that shuddered from his throat upon seeing the maroon and gold emblem of the Gryffindor House.

“Fucking Morgana’s tits!” he cried out, quickly clenching the robe together in a panic. How did he mistake this rougher, well-worn robe in lieu of his finer, custom tailored one? This was a nightmare. He was going to have to WEAR this tomorrow for class and somehow convince others he and Granger were NOT up to no good. Was she even aware she had his? She would come morning, that’s for sure.

It was already curfew. There’d be no way he could even owl her without drawing attention, let alone get to a meeting spot to trade without running into one of the many nightly dwellers of the Hogwarts castle. They were well and truly stuck with their accidental switch and needed a clever way to hide it.

He fell into his bed, still holding the dammed robe tightly and sighed. One innocent conversation and he blundered in spectacular fashion. His father would never let him live this down if he found out. Then again, he had worse worries than what his father might think of him cavorting with a…a…Muggleborn. He couldn’t even put his commonly used slur into thought tonight, it didn’t feel right. Letters with his father as of late had led him to believe that the Triwizard Tournament was merely the setting for something worse to come, worse than the Basilisk…

He shuddered, although he quite fancied snakes, that one was terrifying. And to think it nearly killed Potter…

He didn’t know why his father had been so hell-bent on Potter’s demise when he had first urged him to establish a friendship with the Boy Who Lived in his first year, to which he failed irrevocably.

“You’re proving to be a bigger disappointment than I thought possible…” his father had sneered when he delivered the news that first Christmas break.

And now, Potter was thrust again into the spotlight of danger with somehow getting his name accepted in the Goblet of Fire, inserting himself into the what was traditionally a three man competition and therefore attracting the attention of far more unscrupulous wizards-some who still, like his father, followed the Dark Lord’s doctrine.

He’d walked on proverbial dragon eggshells, trying to plant the seed in his father’s ear that these so called lesser wizards were in all sense of a better phrase, giving him a run for his money, especially a particular Gryffindor bookworm. His father hadn’t taken lightly to even having the house name uttered, let alone the gentile term Muggleborn. It was Mudblood or nothing, because that’s what they were.

Dread washed over him as he pondered his very limited choices.

He could just become the man his father expected him to be—demanded him to be—and go with the flow; continue being the Slytherin Prince and top dog of the school….  
Or...

Let that tiny little nagging voice in the back of his head speak louder. The one that had him doubting everything he’d ever known before stepping foot into this illustrious school and having his eyes witness firsthand just what Muggleborns could do. 

He inhaled deeply to steady his nerves, unaware he still clutched the brunette’s robe until her scent crept into his nostrils once more. It was soothing, in the way his mother’s perfume was. It somehow eased the ache in his chest and released the serotonin needed for him to clear his mind, far better than trying to use Occlumency. Relishing the way it made him feel, he bunched it up and drew it into his arms as he rolled over, nestled his face into it and sunk into slumber.

For once, he would dream peacefully, unhindered by the looming doubt that his father’s scheming’s were going to wreck more havoc in the weeks to come.  
……………………..

“Wakey wakey, O Prince of Slytherin!” a taunting voice jeered as he felt his body jarred by the tip of a broomstick or shoe, he couldn’t tell. It roused him nonetheless. 

“Poke me again and I’ll hex your arse.” He growled into the bundled robe, rubbing his face and raking a hand through his platinum blond hair. 

“Oooh he’s prickly this morning.” Blaise Zabini teased. Crabbe and Goyle would never have the balls to test their leader before a cup of coffee. 

Draco made sure to crush the robe into a ball and cram it halfway under his pillow before Blaise took it upon himself to yank it up and enchant it. He was irked by the wake-up call and that he hadn’t formulated plan to conceal the robe. Even he knew that casting a concealment charm would be immediate grounds for point deduction. Students were not allowed to enchant their uniforms in anyway, no matter how they may try.

It prevented the female student body from shortening their skirts or tightening their blouses, just as much as it was in place to prevent the boys from altering their uniforms as well. It wasn’t like they didn’t have their own personal clothing to wear on class free days and show off the goods.

If he did use a concealment charm, everyone would want to know why.

He’d rather go to his grave first than have the entire school know he was caught wearing the Gryffindor crest. And especially hers.

And if he didn’t wear it, he’d also get points deducted for not being in proper dress, but that would negate the fact that he needed to be rid of the damn thing as quickly as possible. 

Godric be damned he was in a tight spot.

“Since I’d rather not be turned to stone by your gaze, we’ll see you in the Great Hall.” Blaise joked as Draco lanced him with a stony stare. He kept it up as his cronies followed suit, leaving him in blessed peace. He tried to not let his relief be heard as he exhaled. 

He didn’t have time to dawdle. A simple scourgify spell freshened him up as he slicked back his hair and flung the robe on. Finding nothing better than his scarf, he draped it over his shoulder so that it lay against his left beast and thus hid the patch. Mundane but effective, as long as he kept it in place. He collected his bag and hurried to the hall, needing something in his stomach.  
…………………..

Hermione woke with a jolt, her first thought immediately on the robe. How could it not be? She’d laid awake the prior evening for several minutes contemplating her options on how to assess the situation. Enchantments were out the question, not wearing was out of the question, and owling him to meet her right now was out of the question. She’d already roused too much attention from Ginny for bailing on dinner, she couldn’t find a reason to leave again.

Waiting until Ginny put her magazine down and switched off her light, Hermione carefully creaked open the wardrobe and pulled the garment out. She tried it on, hoping the length of her hair being down would be enough to cover it. No such luck, this robe was clearly made for a growing teenage boy who had already surpassed her by several inches. It hung low and loose, her hair unable to cover the patch. Even if she were to enchant her hair to grow faster, the result would not be to her liking. Hair growth spells were hard to manage. Too much too fast and not even she had dared tried it on herself.

The robe felt quite nice though, she had to admit. Silkier against her skin, cooler to the touch, lighter on her body. No wonder he always looked so composed, he wasn’t breaking into sweat fits that needed constant vigilance with scourgify spells and natural washing. Or, maybe he was…hell; he had sprouted over the summer. Standing face-to-face with him in the corridor during Yule had given her plenty of opportunity to see that firsthand. 

She closed her eyes at the memory, the scent of his robe invoking her mind. He had smelled the same way that night. Slightly musky, clean…infuriatingly good. Ugh, this was not helping. She shucked off the robe and tossed it back into the wardrobe. Stupid rich people and their nice smelling cologne and such. Just because he smelled nice didn’t make him nice. 

But tonight he had been.

The puzzle that was Draco Malfoy was not so easily solved.

She fell asleep with unsettling memories of the past and the recent encounters battling each other.

Among the hustle and bustle of the waking routine taken by her dorm mates, who spent a considerable amount of time on primping in front of the mirror, she was able to turn her back to them and don the robe and sling her scarf over her shoulder. It was still cold enough that it didn’t look out of place among her uniform, even though it should be draped around her neck. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have to wear it long. How mundane in a school of magic.

Breakfast was as normal as any other morning, the four rows of the Great Hall tables filling with students of all age, with extra to accommodate their visitors. Bustling, noisy, candles floating above, House Elves scurrying with empty platters back into the kitchen…all of it normal ruckus. Normal morning pranks were played; shoelaces being tied so a student tripped over their feet, silverware enchanted to run away from those who reached for it, pumpkin muffins tasting like banana instead. Such little distractions that kept most of the students occupied so that a silent exchange happened between two known notorious rivals.

Seated among her friends, Hermione’s smile faltered when she saw Malfoy enter with a cloud over his head, brooding as he joined his mates who gave him plenty of room on the bench. He grabbed for a mug, steam wafting from its surface as he leaned in to inhale the scent as if it were something precious. It surprised her to see he was indeed wearing the robe—for a moment she’d fear he had thrown it into his fireplace—and that he hid the House insignia just as she had.

Also: Malfoy was clearly not a morning person without a cup of coffee first.

Draco stormed into the Great Hall with all the dignified swagger he normally carried himself in and claimed the spot left open for him by his faithful Slytherins. As soon as he sat he could feel her eyes pierce all the way from the Gryffindor table. Pretending not to notice, he sniffed the high quality brew and for a moment, could put the scent of her shampoo out of his head. A tip of the mug brought the dark liquid to his lips and that first simmering taste brought an invigorating rush straight to his brain.

Ah, heavenly. Now he could begin the day.

First class was a wash, they had a test and there was absolutely no way to find a reason to leave one’s desk-no milling about or spell casting here, just good old fashion quill-to-parchment scrawling. Second class they didn’t share and thus had no chance to intercede. Their silent exchange across the tables was quick and subtle, Hermione tapping the scarf laying on her left shoulder and Malfoy nodding in acknowledgment. They’d just have to be on alert for each other and find a moment. Third class reunited them for Transfiguration and as they approached from opposite directions they locked eyes once more. It had to be here. He had Quidditch practice and she had a study group after lunch.

Filing in through the doorway, Malfoy pressed the toe of his shoe on the hem of his robe that dragged along the floor on her. She was pinned in place, getting jarred and bumped by fellow classmates in a rush to not be late for McGonagall’s class. Tardiness was one of her pet peeves. Hermione ended going down to one knee after a particularly hard shove, though she couldn’t say from whom. Malfoy bent down and grabbed her arm.

“Find a reason to leave class, the loo, whatever.” He ordered in a whisper before up righting the two of them and taking off to his side of the classroom. While seats had no designation, the students created their own seating arrangements long ago with House Unity in mind. Hermione went to hers and Malfoy to his.

When Hermione slipped in with her buddies Ron leaned over. “Did Malfoy just help you to your feet?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah… I guess he did.” She replied sheepishly. She hadn’t realized Ron had been watching her.

“And he didn’t even insult you?”

“Maybe he’s finally run out of nasty words.” Harry remarked with a chuckle.

Ron scoffed. “Not likely.” Suspicion oozed out of him like a cracked cauldron.

McGonagall shot the trio a look that warned of silence and began the lecture. Hermione got so caught up in notes that she nearly forgot she was supposed to excuse herself, keeping a hand placed on her scarf should it decide to slip. Recalling her conversation with the woman the other night she knew her way out and groaned with fake pain, clutching her abdomen. 

Right away, it drew attention. She winced, putting on a show. Halfway through raising her arm into the air McGonagall had excused her to the infirmary to see Madam Pomfrey. Normally, even attempting to manipulate someone—let alone a teacher—would have mortified her, but she relished the ease in which it played out.

“Thank you, I’ll come back for my notes.” She replied in pathetic voice, hunching over for dramatic effect and taking staggering steps out of the room. She straightened herself completely once she closed the door behind her and made a slow start to the hospital wing.

Harry and Ron were confused at best until Lavender rolled her eyes. “Don’t you boys know anything? Why do you think she went all dark witch on the lot of you?”

The boys exchanged a look. Oh….so that explained it….

Ginny snorted with a giggle, glad it hadn’t sprung up on her yet. 

Moments later Malfoy pushed himself up from his desk with attention grabbing flourish. “Right. I’m off to the loo.” He announced, daring McGonagall to refuse. “Already finished anyways.” He added, levitating his project to her. She inspected the completely transfigured crystal ball turned into a functional music box that actually played a tune when the lid was lifted.

That aspect hadn’t been part of the assignment. McGonagall lifted an eyebrow in surprise and awarded him points, as well as permission.

\--Amazing what this boy can do when he puts himself into it.—  
……………………

Draco found it amusing that she used menstrual cramps as her excuse, but it was effective. Given how the rumors of her dark mood had been, it was believable. He found himself mentally joking ‘ten points to Gryffindor’ for the clever card only a girl could use. Turning the crystal ball into a music box, one that could open, was their assignment. Adding in that extra dimension of detail took a lot more concentration and magical power than simply making it an ornate box and no doubt she figured it would take most of the class the entire hour to make it. Luckily for him, he’d been privately tutored in many things before arriving at Hogwarts—which was both a blessing and curse—as he found himself often bored with assignments that were beneath his level. Today though, why not show off and give those lions a taste of what their rival could do? Too bad Granger wasn’t here to see it; he’d love to see her face.

He sauntered out of the classroom but the moment the door shut he bolted down the hall, holding the scarf in place as he had already made the habit of to prevent it being seen by anyone: student, ghost, or portrait. He knew where to go and where she should be, but he didn’t see her. So insistent to make it to his destination he didn’t bother checking behind him as another student used the same excuse and exited, silently observing his actions.

“Granger!” he hissed, he didn’t want to be heard calling her name.

A moment passed.

“Over here.” Her soft voice carried. She waved a hand out from behind the door of an unused classroom, bashfully hiding behind the other side. In an instant he was sliding up to it and slipping behind the wooden barrier coming face-to-face with her. Had this situation not been so dire, one might think…

For a moment, they shared a stare and then both let out a relieved laugh. This whole situation was ridiculous. Then Malfoy reached over and pulled her scarf down, revealing his House insignia. “Ya know…Slytherin looks good on you.” He chuckled.

Hermione flushed, not knowing what to say as he yanked his own scarf down, revealing her identifying patch. She wasn’t sure how she felt about seeing the Gryffindor insignia adorning the chest of one Draco Malfoy.

“Get a good look, it’ll be the only time you’ll ever see this.” He smirked, knowing her eyes had given him an once-over. Amused by her relative discomfort he couldn’t help but bait her further. “I bet you’ve always wondered what it’d be like, haven’t you?”

“Oh get over yourself.” She scoffed. “Just take the damn thing off already.”

His tongue flicked between his lips. “Never thought I’d live to see the day that Miss Granger demands I undress for her.”

\--Oh the nerve of this little git—

As they were shucking off their robes, the door flung open, startling the two so bad that Draco had a momentary act of heroism and pulled her behind him, arm outstretched as to protect her as a familiar, though angry face was as red as his hair stood with a look of abject horror and disgust.  
…………………………………..


	6. Favor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For sparring Ron any harm, Draco uses his misunderstanding as a means of blackmail. No one ever wants to owe Malfoy a favor…

After Lavender clarified what was wrong with Hermione it suddenly made so much sense to Ron Weasley that he felt guilty for egging her on like he had been. No wonder she had taken extra offense to everything as of late, he knew what it meant now, he had a mother after all. That time of the month for a witch was hormonal hell and their tempers were shorter than a toddler’s toy wand.

He thought about gathering her things for her but knowing Hermione, not even the moon cycle would prevent her from coming back to class to collect her belongings. But maybe, if he could persuade McGonagall into giving him a loo break, he could catch her and apologize. He didn’t expect Malfoy to stand up suddenly and declare his need for it and show off with a fucking functional music box.

\--Preening peacock—

And to actually get permission!

\--Lousy git—

And how he just paraded out of class like he was crowned Head Boy.

\--Insufferable towheaded pompous fucker—

“Is there anyone else in need of the loo while we’re at it?” came an exasperated sigh.

He took his chance.

Now, out in the hall, expecting to see Malfoy just lazily striding down the way, not at all believing he really needed to go but was probably up to more stupid mischief like those Potter Stinks badges but it shocked him to see the blond practically sprinting down the corridor, and his heart leapt in his throat when he heard him whisper hoarsely “Granger!”  
\--What the fuck is he doing looking for Hermione?—

Ron put all his sneaking skills to use and followed the Slytherin as he slipped into an empty classroom and shut the door behind him, but not fully. Cautiously he tip-toed and flattened himself against the wall.

“I bet you’ve always wondered what it looked like, haven’t you?” he heard Malfoy say with a hint of smugness.

\--Just what the…--

“Oh get over yourself.” She scoffed. “Just take the damn thing off already.”

Bile built up in his throat. Was he going mad? Had he just heard Hermione say…?

“Never thought I’d live to see the day that Miss Granger demands I undress for her.”

His knees nearly gave out.

How utterly disgusting! With Malfoy? Of all the puckering arses in this school to shack up with? And to skip class to do so? This wasn’t her. No…

With unfiltered rage, he firmly kicked the door open, jarring the two before they could get more than their robes off, Malfoy pulling her behind him as he faced off with their intrusion.

For a moment, there was a stunned silence before Ron belted out “I knew it! I knew there was something going on between you two! Since Yule when I caught the lot of you!”

“Ron, that’s not what this is!”

“Wow Weasley, you really are a jealous little weasel.” Draco smirked.

“The hell it’s not, not with what I just heard. Merlin’s Beard I thought you were better than this, but to sink so low as to shag with Malfoy? Fuck this, I’m telling McGona-”

Hermione had whipped out her wand and artfully zapped Ron, shifting aside from Draco just enough to bind him. “Petrificus Totalus!”

Draco spun quickly, knowing she could’ve very well just shot him in the back with that spell, but instead, she turned it on her own friend.

“Grab him!” she ordered. For once, Draco didn’t argue.

Ron’s suspended form had bound his arms and legs together and stiffened him like a mummy and Draco immediately took hold of the ginger and dragged his form into the classroom and closed the door. He was unceremoniously dropped to the floor. Hermione pointed her wand at him, but Draco stilled her hand.

“Go to the infirmary, I’ll take care of this.”

She hesitated.

“Granger, our cover will be blown if you don’t arrive at where you’re supposed to be. Now GO.” He ordered, putting emphasis to it. She bristled at the command but nodded. 

“Don’t hurt him.” She pleaded in a whisper. Her soft brown eyes implored him with that tone, a tone that said, ‘I am trusting you’ and for some reason, he didn’t want to break it. Not when she could’ve easily hexed him or claim she was under the Imperius Curse. 

“Be a good girl and run along and I will.” He replied with just enough jest to tell her that he would, but he was going to have a little fun first. It surprised him when she spun on her heel and dashed out of the empty classroom—with the correct robe this time—and had not spared Weasley a parting glance.  
…………………………..

At the shout of her incantation Draco froze, expecting to be hit full force at point-blank range with the spell that it took him a moment to realize he had not been struck, and it was Weasley, bound and shocked in the doorway. He spun around half expecting the need to defend himself, but she looked him square in the eye and ordered him to grab the idiot friend of hers.

It sent a hot shiver up his spine when she had done that and for some unexplained reason he couldn’t say whether it was kinda sexy or just fear of what she would do to him if he didn’t comply that compelled him to obey without so much as snide remark. He grabbed their spellbound classmate and dragged him in, shutting the door and having an odd euphoria sweep over him at this sight.

They were well and truly fucked now. The moment Weasley gained use of his mouth he’d holler for a professor, maybe even Boy Wonder Potter to his side. As Granger leaned over him to undo the spell he stopped her. With a moment of logic he was able to convince her to leave, for surely, if she didn’t arrive at the hospital wing soon, their cover story was as good a muggle television here. Knowing he was right, she didn’t argue. Amazing how they could communicate so well without having to say much.

Once in possession of her proper robe she was off, leaving him with the absolute perfect giftwrapped present he could ever ask for. He might just have to actually say ‘thank you’ to her for this. He cocked his head to the side, wondering what he could do to Weasley and get away with. The possibilities were endless really, but he’d promised not to “hurt” him.

He started laughing, pure and true laughter. It carried on for a few moments until fizzling down; he’d nearly forgotten they were not too far away from occupied classrooms. Looking at the pathetic pureblood before him, he realized he didn’t even need to do anything with his wand, not when he had so much he could SAY.

“I’m gonna be honest, I never expected her to hex you, but our little Granger is just full of surprises this year. Wouldn’t you say? I bet she really does want to keep this a secret then.” Draco stated calmly, his joy seeping through.

“She left you, giftwrapped for me and it’s not even my birthday. I may just have to send her flowers. You wouldn’t happen to know her favorite would you? Probably not, even if she sent you a Howler you’d forget by the end of the week.”

He squatted on his haunches, looking down at the redhead.

“I can’t blame her, being Muggleborn and all, you being the first pureblood wizard she met that she might have been smitten. But surely you’ve seen just how she surpasses you in every way except on a broom; she’s beyond your league. Can’t believe it took her this long to finally realize it. Maybe she liked the notoriety of being Potter’s little Muggleborn friend, girlfriend to the sidekick. Not a bad spotlight actually.”

He sucked on his lip. Oh he had a good one coming…

“Tell me, have you even kissed her yet? Ha! I bet she even does that better than you too. I think I might just have to put her to the test, show her what a pureblood of class can do.”

He stood up and picked up his robe, dusting it off. Getting it dirty was well worth it today.

“You know I could literally hex you until class runs out and then some, but I’m feeling generous in light of the circumstances. Who knows how far I would’ve gotten had you not interrupted? So I’m granting you this courtesy, and before you open your mouth and scream for your little boyfriend, know this: no one would believe a damn word you had to say, seeing the jealousness you’ve been displaying recently. She would deny it even under the use of Veritaserum, and I have far more influence than you. So you’re free to go. I won’t even Obliviate this from you because I want to see you squirm, knowing that I now have something that was once yours, if she ever was at all.”

A flick of his wand and the bond was lifted, his limbs his once again. Ron inhaled sharply; face turned red in all his frustration as he had to deal with Malfoy’s boasting. That smug bastard had the nerve, the gall, the fucking audacity… He couldn’t even finish the thought in his head. Just thinking of him even touching Hermione…His hands bunched into fists and clenched tightly for several seconds before he clamored to his feet.

Draco was pulling open the door. “Just remember one thing Weasley, you now owe me a favor, and the last thing you ever want is to owe me something.” The Slytherin scum turned his head and flashed him a penetrating grey glare.

He added one last jab in for good measure, just to watch Weasley’s face twist.

“She’s mine now Weasel.”

There was so much Ron wanted to say. No Hermione was not like that, she was a good girl, and she would never… But she had… And he had caught her plain as day with Malfoy, in the processing of disrobing…What more proof did he need than her hexing him over their enemy? She had made her choice. 

Whatever it was that Malfoy had done to somehow undo the past three years must’ve worked. Was it money? Expensive gifts? Some stupid rare book? Or had he just pinned her to the wall and snogged the hell out of her until she’d pushed it from her mind?

As it stood, he didn’t even want to know. He was too disgusted.  
………………..

Hermione ran the rest of the way to the infirmary until she was red in the face and sweating, with a pinch in her ribs just for good measure so she didn’t have to fake any pain. It only took a few words and being bowed over for the Madam of Medicine to understand and set her on one of the beds and procure a potion made just for this very occasion.

She felt a momentary jab of guilt for wasting a potion that some other girl would actually truly need, but when had Hogwarts ever ran out of brews? When stock ran low it just became the next assignment in Potions class anyway. Shrugging off the very unGryffindorian thought she popped the cork and slugged it back. It had a mild taste and she could instantly feel her mood lighten as well as the elixir gurgle in her gut as it made its way to the source of her pain.

After a few moments she was cleared to return to class. She managed a smile to the healer on her way out and all but flew back to the very room where she had left the boys. Relief washed over her upon discovering neither were there and there was no evidence of foul play. Had Draco actually kept his word and not harmed Ron? If so she might just even hug him.

She calmly walked back into class, all heads turning around upon her re-entry. She noticed how Draco looked completely blasé and Ron like he was about to puke or explode. Ok, so maybe Draco hadn’t handled him as gently as she’d hoped. But once classes were over she’d be able to pull Ron aside and explain this all away. Sure, he’d still be grumpy about being momentarily hexed but he could always grumble about it to Neville, who’d tell him she had been within her rights.

After all, if Neville could forgive her, so could Ron.  
…………………

Once he’d left the Weasel to stew over his words, Draco realized the implication of his them. Shit, he’d just said Granger was his…he hadn’t really meant it, but he sure wanted that ginger git to think so. Problem was, now he was going to have to actually make him believe it.

Although, that might make an interesting challenge….  
……………….


	7. Disgust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron can’t even fathom the how/why/when and doesn’t even want to. He’s fed up of Hermione and starts to look at her in disgust, wondering how he was ever friends with someone like her.

Classes followed without further dramatics, Ron pairing with Harry whenever partners were assigned. Hermione tagged up with Ginny and for a brief moment he wanted to whisk his little sister away and tell her to watch her back, but he knew he’d need more than his words to back up his reasoning for saying such a thing, and so far, he had nothing.

He could literally feel the grey eye glare of a particular Slytherin across the room and it made the hairs on the back of his neck itch. Draco was getting under his skin and he was pissed for even allowing it. For once he was grateful to have an assignment that needed his attention; he surely would combust into flames if he had to sit with these two and not have something else to focus on.

Hermione was only halfway concentrating, her mind darting back and forth between the misunderstanding Ron walked in on and how she was going to handle it with him later. Her conscience was battling terribly with itself, pacing between the thoughts of ‘he brought it on himself’ to ‘I am the worst friend ever’ and ‘what the heck am I even doing with Malfoy?’ and finding no solution to any of them.

Even with her mind split between her task and her internal dialogue, she was still able to pass the assignment, slightly miffed that Malfoy had done so with flying colors. Damn him! He’s really taking this challenge seriously and I was not prepared for such dedication! Apparently, no amount of her crack down study session had helped for the assignments they were being given lately. He already had a 20 point advantage, unaware of the points awarded him from this morning.

\--It’s fine. I can totally make up that stretch.—

\--This little competition probably won’t last long anyways. He’ll get bored and slag off again.—

But that thought didn’t bring her comfort either. She had dared him, pricked that fragile and proud ego and had won. He was doing his work, he was answering questions, completing assignments, and igniting a fire in her to rise to the top—not that she was worried of being knocked down. It was fun. There were only a handful of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs that could even be mentioned in the same breath as her with their academics, but they didn’t have near the animosity she had with Malfoy. No edge. No fire.

And if there was ever someone who played with fire, it was the boy named after the Dragon constellation.  
……………………

Dinner was particularly awkward among the Gryffindor crowd. 

The noticeable tension between Weasley and Granger was thick enough to slice with Godric’s sword, with them shooting looks at each other in a silent conversation that teetered into a mute argument across the table. Harry was just trying to get Ron to engage in conversation with him and not death glare their fellow housemate into next week. Hermione was laughing gayly at the joke Ginny had told, flipping her hair back and trying to not let temptation lure her eyes to wander.

She needed a moment alone with Ron; the longer it took the more sour his mood would become. She’d stashed some packs of chocolate frogs into her satchel at the suggestion of McGonagall and Pomfrey and figured it couldn’t hurt to bribe the sweets loving redhead with one. She reached into the bag and held it close.

“Hey Ron,” she called out; breaking the conversation he was currently having with Harry on Quidditch. He continued talking as if he hadn’t heard her although Harry turned. 

"Uh…Ron?” she called again softly, indicating she was sorry for the interruption.

Ron kept rambling on.

Harry turned back to him. “Ey, Hermione’s calling ya.”

“So.” Was his response. “I’m not done discussing the last match. She can wait her turn.”

“Still fighting?” he sighed. Between this and the tournament he’d be lucky to have day free of stress. 

“I’d like to apologize.” She said clearly, humbling herself for the sake of ending this foolishness. “Here.” She pushed the candy box towards him. “I know you love them-”

“I’m not accepting bribes.” He responded darkly.

Hermione bit back the retort on her tongue. “It’s not. This is an apology frog. Let’s just put this all behind-”

Ron finally turned his head in her direction. The look in his bright blue eyes was shockingly cold. “You hexed me, witch.” He snarled.

“Uh, she hexed me too.” Harry chimed in.

“She knows what I mean.” Ron snapped, glaring her down. Her cheeks flamed. His face fought to contain the emotions raging underneath. Mixtures of jealousy, embarrassment, resentment, anger….everything was a toxic concoction ready to boil over. 

“I can explain-” she began.

“Don’t even.” He spat. “You think you’re so much better than me. That a little toss of your hair and a smile and some stupid candy is enough to make it all go away?” He rose to his feet. “You make me sick. You’re nothing but a fucking Purist and I don’t need your pity chocolate!” he shouted, grabbing the box and throwing it right in her face.

She flinched and brought her hands up but a corner of the box still nicked her in the eye as she turned her face away. Gasps and jeering erupted from the nearby onlookers, garnering more attention from fellow students until the ripple effect spread and eventually everyone in the great hall was starring, or pretending not to. Ron had shoved the table when he rose, spilling goblets in the nearby radius. He even shoulder-jarred Harry when he stood up to say something, daring him to before storming out of the dining room.

Her lip trembled as she blinked, utterly shocked and completely humiliated. A moment later she was grabbing her bag and dashing out of the room, leaving everyone bewildered or entertained, depending on which table one sat at. Harry wanted to follow but somehow felt that this was beyond him. He slowly slunk back into his seat, trying to shrug off the discomfort and cleared his throat.

“We’ll let them hash it out.” He replied with bravado, waving his hand. The action was enough to deter several rubberneckers who had no shame in showing their interest in the drama. He leaned over to Ginny, who was just as shocked, if not more so with her brother’s behavior.

“Ginny…Ginny!” he whisper-shouted. “What’s a Purist?”

Discomfort washed over her freckled face. But he didn’t know, how could he, he was muggle raised. How could he when this entire world was still brand new to him? She swallowed a lump in her throat. “It’s a slur.”

The puzzled look she received prompted her to explain further.

“Despite the positive interpretation, it’s meant to describe someone who only chases after purebloods for relationships. It also goes the same for other purebloods who want to only have pureblood marriages.”

Harry leaned back. Ron calling Hermione that? It was just like Malfoy calling her a Mudblood. Stupid blood status among wizards. It was downright disgusting among such a caliber of people. But deep down, magical or not, human was human and there would always be those who thought they were superior. He quickly lost his appetite.  
………………………

Hermione cried herself to sleep that night. The explanation of the term from Ginny didn’t help ease her one bit—in fact she felt even worse—and the look Lavender shot at her was discerning at best. She felt utterly hollow and broken. How could Ron lose his faith in her so quickly? She hadn’t done anything wrong, not that he’d ever believe it. Needing to dry her eyes, she reached into her satchel and pulled out the handkerchief given to her by Malfoy.

It was a creamy grey with a silver embroidered M in one corner. She was sure the thread itself was spun of pure silver. The cloth felt luxuriously soft and comforting against her eyelids as she dried her tears. It was no small irony that went unnoticed that Ron was the reason she even held this item, gifted to her by her school nemesis, and once again the reason behind the tears that soaked it. 

Stupid boys.

No, just one stupid boy.

One stupid redhead boy.  
……………………………

First week of March:

Insult was added to injury when it became quite public that Ron and Lavender were suddenly an item, and used every opportunity possible to showcase their affection with kisses and cute nicknames. Ginny was absolutely beside herself when Lavender had the audacity to declare she was now her new best friend, since she was dating her brother.  
Ginny had to delicately put it to the little blonde twit that her friendship with Hermione was an altogether separate allegiance and had nothing to do with anything she and Ron might’ve shared. When she cocked her head sideways and still looked confused Ginny sighed.

“Dating my brother doesn’t grant you the title of best friend. That gets earned.” She snapped before they headed off to class. Onlookers ‘ooohed’ for a second before filing into their seats.

During lessons Hermione was ruthless. Hand in the air before the teacher finished asking their question, first one to complete her task, showing off when assignments were granted extra credit for creativity and/or uniqueness, and effectively zapping targets with unnerving accuracy. When she was angry, she was focused.

In DADA, when she laughed and incanted “Expecto Patronum” her adorable otter spirit danced around her feet playfully as she wiped a happy tear from her eye. The spell had been difficult for her with all the going-ons recently that she had to dig deep and find a memory not sullied with the bitter taste of Ron to it. 

Draco watched intently, trying to figure out how to make his take the corporeal form, but at best he could only manage was a weak stream of smoky mist from his wand’s tip. It was embarrassing, not having a memory “happy enough” to concentrate on. With everyone out in the open incanting and playing with theirs it was painfully obvious that he lacked something, something money couldn’t buy.

He wasn’t the only one of course, but given who he was and his family’s name, it was expected that he could have anything his heart desired at a whim. He recalled when a gaggle of Muggleborns walked by, conversing on the difference in currency that they had grown up with and now had to acclimate to while in attendance and how the subject shifted when one of them said money couldn’t by happiness.

Curious, he wondered if that was indeed the case or if it was just him in general.  
……………………..

“You’d think with five older brothers that Ron would have at least a book’s worth advice on how to deal with girls, if not a page from each one of their dos and don’ts.” Ginny rolled her eyes in disgust at her brother’s complete disregard of whoever observed their snogging. 

Hermione tossed her hair aside. “I wouldn’t take dating advice from the twins, no offense, but they seem more preoccupied with pranks than girls.”

Ginny conceded. “Bill has taken a fancy to Fleur. Can’t stop going on about her and while he’s outwardly rooting for Hogwarts he can’t help but cheer for the Beauxbatons.”

“At least HE has good taste.” Hermione snidely commented loud enough for the snogging couple to hear. The air the common room went still as Ron shot her a nasty look and then went back to sticking his tongue down “Lav Lav’s” throat. Feeling her stomach curl, Hermione excused herself from Ginny and left.

Her feet carried her hard and fast down countless steps and through hallways, passing ghosts and students and portraits alike in a blur. She needed air. She didn’t even apologize when her satchel slammed into someone as she sped by, she just needed OUT. Running and running, past Hagrid’s hut and the Quidditch pitch, back to her familiar spot at the willow pond.

She nearly heaved once she fell to her knees, wheezing as the tears poured and she pounded the ground with angry firsts.

“Stupid….Weasley!” she spat, too exhausted to even insult him properly.

“Yeah, stupid Weasley sounds about right.” A voice chuckled.

She flung her hair back and hefted herself squarely on her rump, glaring at Malfoy. Because who else? Not when Harry was either too busy dealing with his unwelcomed spotlight or doing damage control, he couldn’t keep dividing himself between his two best mates. Not that he knew what to say to comfort a girl, not when she had Ginny and the Ravenclaw Luna to vent to.

“We gotta stop meeting like this.” He grinned.

“Yeah well you weren’t invited, just like you weren’t invited last time.” She snapped. “Why’d you even follow me?”

“Because I expected an apology after you body checked me with your book bag. Just how many do you have in there anyways?”

She wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Sorry. Now piss off.”

Instead, Draco took that as an invitation. She noticed he was wearing his green Quidditch robe instead of the usual black one. Well, there’d be no mistaking THAT one, would there? He sat down in front of her, his gear still on his arms and shins.

“That was a pathetic apology. Surely you were taught better.” He smirked.

“Why don’t you apologize first eh? How about we start there? I don’t see how I owe you a damn thing after three and half years of bullying!”

Tension buzzed all around her. And yet, Malfoy didn’t immediately snap back with an insult or joke, only an intense curious steel gaze. 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I did.” He replied as if they having biscuits and tea. “I have to admit, some of it was fun…but even I have my limits.”

Stunned, the flare in her nostrils deflated and her chest stopped heaving as she began to calm down. Her guard was still up, she still expected the rug to be pulled, but she was giving him a considerable amount of her attention. “Limits.” She repeated, just to clarify what he had said.

“I…don’t always agree with my father.” He confessed, eyes darting off to the side as his arms rested on his knees. “Because I’ve seen firsthand…your magic is powerful, you rival me.”

“I thought I disgusted you.” She stated, pulling her hair back. “You practically screamed it to the world.”

He bit his cheek. “Just so it would get back to him.” He answered, eyes still cast aside. “Now everyone believes…I’m just like…”

\--Oh, I never expected this—

He took in a heavy breath. “I don’t know what I’m doing. Why I talk to you, why you even bother to listen. I don’t know why I follow you, and why I’m curious about muggle stuff…but I can’t ask anyone else.” He turned to finally face her. “You’re the only one who gets it…you just know the answer and why it works and how to assemble it. I thought, there’s no way, she’s gotta be cheating. How could a Mud-mggle figure all this out if she never knew a thing about magic before?”

Hermione blinked in silence as Draco suddenly couldn’t stop himself, as if he’d popped the cork on a phial of Veritaserum and was compelled to speak the truth. She didn’t even have time to react when he stumbled over using his father’s slur and corrected himself. Just who was this boy before her?

“…I meant it when I said you could bank off tutoring…and I need help with the Patronus. Professor Bad Mood isn’t going to teach me a damn thing if he’s too busy turning me into a ferret for laughs.”

“I thought you made a cute ferret.” she said out loud before realizing it. Her eyes went wide. “I mean…ferrets are cute in general…” she added, blushing.

He felt the tips of his ears redden. Him, a cute ferret?

“But…I’ve been having a time with it myself…I don’t think I can.”

“You managed to last week. I saw you do it.” He stated. –And you cried—

“Surely, you have an arsenal of all your taunts and jeers that could fuel one.”

He shook his head. “I tried that.” He bitterly snapped. “It didn’t work….I guess it can’t be a true happy memory if I’m hurting someone else…”

“Oh.”

A turbulent silence hung overhead as they merely sat and looked at each other, not knowing what to say next or how to progress onward. No one ever said making a truce was easy.

“I’m not my father.” He said, mentally begging her to believe him. Not when he couldn’t agree to the things he was plotting. “But I have to pretend I am.”

She felt an icy stab in her heart. No wonder he couldn’t summon a Patronus, not when he couldn’t be his own true self. And these moments he’d been sharing with her since Christmas were rare flecks of gold in the stony exterior of Draco Malfoy.

“Stop pretending.” She said, plain and simply. She stood up and squarely put her hands on her hips. “Pretending to be something you’re not isn’t going to help you create a happy memory for yourself, nor do you any favors in the end when we graduate. You need to be you Draco, whether you like hearing it from me or not.”

He found himself a little hot under his Quidditch robe, looking up at her as she stood proud and tall and minced no words. When she took charge, she took charge. And then she said his name. For the first time, his Christian name rolled off her tongue, and it was beautiful.

He abruptly took to his feet, startling her back a step.

Her back pressed against the young willow as he advanced, stopping short a few inches from her face. “Then help me make a happy memory.” He whispered, taking hold of her hand that had unconsciously come up as if to ward him back.

Her lip trembled. “I don’t know wha-”

He brought her hand up to his lips. “Is this alright?” he asked softly.

She felt as if her skin was on fire. Her face. Her hand. Her chest. But she nodded.

The moment his lips brushed against the top of her hand she sucked in a breath. It was gentle, so gentle. He turned her hand over, palm up and pulled back her curled fingers, placing a delicate kiss to her palm. She felt her pulse rise as if her heartbeat could be heard with the way it pounded in her ears. He moved down just a few inches to her wrist, gracing a feather light caress to the tender flesh; bring forth a gasp between her partially opened mouth.

She was suddenly thankful for the tree behind her and would forever hold herself in its debt for keeping her supported as her mind went blank. What Draco was doing no one else had ever done and now she felt ruined in which no one could ever compare as he was the first boy to kiss her, and in such an intimate way. When his teeth clamped down on the thin blue veins an unsuppressed moan whispered from her lips. Her eyes shut and she felt lightheaded.

A brief moment of his lips suckling against the skin of her wrist passed before he concluded she would soon faint if he continued, and thus released her limb, only to bring his other hand to her waist to support her should she crumble to the ground. She brought her hand over her heart, panting ever so slightly, calming herself before she looked up at him.

“Did I hurt you?” he inquired.

All she could do was shake her head.

“Good. Hopefully it was enough.” He let go of her waist and retrieved his wand, stepping back from her. He turned to the field behind him and chanted “Expecto Patronum” and watched as the thin wisps of smoke grew and began to morph, spreading out like wings, when suddenly it was wings. A long neck sprouted up, a body followed, finishing with a gloriously long tail of feathers and took to the sky.

They watched in fascination as the bird flew in a circle around them before landing in the field, shimmering in a silver blur as its plumage unfurled and it bowed its neck. A gorgeous peacock, acknowledging its master. A moment later the ghostly apparition dissolved into its incorporeal form, then disappeared altogether.

“I did it…” he said, dumbfounded and amazed. “I actually did it!” he cried out.

Hermione had never seen him so joyful, and for a good reason. His smile was breathtaking. Her heart had never beat so hard in its life and for the first time she wished one of her parents was a cardiologist so she would know if she wasn’t experiencing some sort of premature heart attack. 

“You’re welcome.” She complimented him, reaching down for her bag. “Well, I guess you can just add that to my bill.”

He turned around to her. “Where are you going?” He pouted. Actually pouted!

She blinked rapidly. “Back to-”

“Wait.” He held out an arm and blocked her. “You’re not…running away from me are you?”

“Draco….” She started but the excuse died on her tongue. He’d know it anyways; he was too clever for dull excuses. But right now if she didn’t give herself some space she feared they’d do something rash.

“Oh. So you were…” he didn’t even try to conceal the sting. “Don’t need your reputation damaged any more than it is, being seen with me.”

“Not true.” She whispered. Her reputation was already taking a beating.

“Then what?” he demanded. He leaned into her personal space, watching her shrink. 

“I need air.” She breathed out, pushing his chest with her other hand. “Please.”

He placed a hand to her cheek. She was scalding hot. Flushed and wobbly-legged. Hermione was going to faint. “Come here.” He pulled her off the tree and led her to the edge of the pond, helped her sit and took her bag off her shoulder. He flung the flap open and pulled out the handkerchief of his. In a moment, he transfigured it into a goblet and dunked it in the water.

“Drink. Before you pass out and leave me with the task of coming up with one hell of a cover story.” He pressed the cool metal receptacle to her lips and tilted it, forcing her to accept the liquid offered. It spilled down her chin and dripped onto her blouse as she gulped, then she scooped a handful and dabbed her face.

“Ok, ok. I’m alright.” She insisted after a moment.

He watched her as she attempted to compose herself. She was clearly avoiding making any eye contact with him. Not that his own chest wasn’t beating violently, he was just better at masking his appearance. And she wore her emotions on her sleeve. A sleeve he noticed that had been pulled down and was now clenched in her palm, hiding the little mark.

“What did you do to Ron?” she blurted out suddenly. “When I left the room?”

He had a laugh. “Didn’t do a thing to him, not by wand or by hand, I didn’t touch him.” He was wondering when she’d bring it up. Her curiosity was incorrigible. “I teased the hell out of him of course, got my cheap jab at his expense and told him he wasn’t good enough to even be your friend.”

She scrunched her lips up, tongue flicking inside her mouth with thought. “At dinner…I tried to apologize, to explain. He called me a Purist and threw a chocolate frog at me. I just figured…maybe you might’ve…”

“He actually hit you with candy?” his tone darkened. –and called you a what now?--

Unconsciously, Hermione brought her hand up to the eye it struck as she fixed her gaze on something in the distance. “It was my peace offering.” She explained.

“Merlin, could he be any thicker? And uncouth.”

“I need to be going now. You weren’t kidding about the search party. They almost rallied one last time.” She took to her feet, waiting for him to do the same. She held the goblet firmly, a moment later; it had been returned to its normal state. It was still hard to look him in the eye.

“Tutor some of the Slytherins…they need it.”

She gently snorted. “Would it behoove you to say please? Mister Manners?” she turned and graced him with a genuine smirk on her face. “So easy to point out the fault in others but not yourself Malfoy.”

“Alright damn. Please Hermione. Please tutor these stupid Slytherins that are making me set the curve.” He huffed out with crossed arms. 

She smiled. “They better pay up first, no name calling, and listen.”

“I’ll make sure of it.” He replied fiercely. “Come on.” He indicated with his chin, turning to face the castle. She followed in stride, clutching her bag for all it was worth, trying to grasp something real and tangible in what she was sure just a lucid dream, right?  
………………………….


	8. Tutoring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco rallies several Slytherins into a study group, led by Hermione Granger to their very surprise. It’s just the start of a new alliance.

Hermione was almost hurt when her presence to the common room went mainly unnoticed, except by Harry and Ginny. It seemed all the other Gryffindors were giving her the allotted time alone she needed, or just didn’t care, not like their opinions mattered. She had been feeling herself slip away from this pride of lions more and more each day.  
As it stood, they were merely tolerating each other.

\--Screw them if they believe the tabloids and are afraid of me, it just validates what Draco said. I am better than some of these louts, and most of all, of Weasley.—

As long as Lavender had Ron preoccupied in a corner of the common room, she wasn’t in the girl’s dorm. Hermione took herself there with no hesitation, slinging her bag off with a hefty thud. She fell backwards onto her mattress with a soul releasing sigh as she rewound the events in her head. Seeing Draco’s beautiful smile, hearing his vulnerable confession, feeling his lips on her wrist…

She pulled the sleeve back, revealing the little purple circle known as a hickey in the muggle world. He’d marked her. A smile crept upon her lips at how arousing that thought was. Not that she’d be showing it off, but just having a temporary bit of proof that he had actually indeed, kissed her.

A Pureblood and a Muggleborn….

They were arch nemesis’s in the school, everyone knew it.

Now they were…

Friends? Acquaintances? A couple? 

\--Oh please, just because one person kissed another doesn’t mean anything. Especially when he did it just to create a memory for the Patronus summon to work. That’s all it was.—  
……………………

Draco strolled back into the Slytherin common room without arousing suspicion. He was known for wandering off, doing what the fuck he wanted, and popping back up ready with an alibi when shit went down. It was all part of the Malfoy persona. And he was certainly most grateful for it tonight as he sauntered passed fellow housemates with a wave, a word, a nod and then off to his dorm.

He shucked off the Quidditch gear, having forgotten to store them in the locker room upon re-entering the castle. It wasn’t such an odd thing that would prick interest, at times the gear needed personal tending to and students would lug it to their dorms and classes before or after practice. He’d give the stuff a shine over later, sometime before next round on the pitch.

His mind was a whirl. He’d successfully done his first Patronus, and it was beautiful. He expected something more along the lines like a snake, maybe even a fox…something clever and dangerous…instead he had something elegant and beautiful. Just like the albino peacocks that roamed the grounds at Malfoy Manor. But he hadn’t been thinking of home to earn that happy memory, so why manifest into an animal he’d seen all his life? Maybe because it was so familiar.

But what could he do to summon it again? He’d tried and tried all the times he sparred with Potter and Weasley, both verbally and magically, even with Quidditch. Potter was either fucking lucky or just naturally talented at the sport, even with an out of season broom. Even watching Weasley puke slugs hadn’t been strong enough, delightful as that was…it associated too closely with the first time he’d called Hermione the M word, and it left him feeling like he had jinxed himself with slugs.

But Hermione, sweet Hermione. With her bright eyes and pouty lips and soft skin… And how she had trembled, blushed, gasped as he touched her. She had become so flustered with just a simple kiss to her hand she nearly fainted. He knew then that she’d never kissed a boy before, never snogged in a closet or alcove in the castle, probably never even held hands with one either. She was that stereotypical nerdy virgin good girl who was too busy with her academics to notice how the boys looked at her.

Maybe she’d start now.

Maybe she’d notice the way he’d been looking.

“Stop pretending. You need to be you Draco.” She had told him. Had he ever heard his name spoken with such care from someone other than his mother? 

Funny how that contradicted what she told him in the hallway during Yule.

“For once, just stop being you.” “Who would you rather I be then?”

Truth was though; he didn’t know who he was exactly. If he could just step out of the shadow his father cast over him, he could make a decision of his own accord without facing that cold glare of disapproval. When had Lucius last smiled at him? When had he last heard “I’m proud of you” or “I love you”? It was one thing to not let the outside world see your emotions, but to your own family as well?

The darkness was swallowing him again, he could feel it, it was dragging him into the cold. He needed to clear his mind, swim against the tide, and find a light to follow. Follow the Patronus; watch it fly, short-lived as it was. It had just been born of a fresh memory; of course it couldn’t last long. Think of the reason for the Patronus, how you were able to coax it forth…she gave you her hand, she gave you permission…remember the softness of her hands, the way her pulse felt beneath your fingertips, how her fingers were curled closed yet she allowed you to pry them open. She trusted you…she sees something in you, something worthwhile. Something worth hexing a so-called friend over.

Warmth spread in his chest once again. He’d successfully pulled himself away from the path. Now only if he could stay on it.  
………………………..

“Are you fucking barmy mate?” Blaise bout choked. He loosened his tie and let out a laugh. “No really, this is golden, your best joke yet.”

“I’m serious Zabini.” Draco retorted. “Half the House is failing and if I hadn’t bet that little witch that I could actually go toe-to-toe with her we’d be even further behind. I gave us a 25 point lead in just a couple days. Think of how much we could wipe the floor if these twats actually put in half they effort they are now?”

“Geez Malfoy, you sound a little passionate there. You sure you’re not ill? Allergies are wicked this time of year.” Blaise pressed a caramel tinted hand to the pale forehead of Draco, who smartly smacked it away.

“Fuck off with that.”

Another student, Theodore Nott, looked up. “Blaise, personal space.” He chided lightly, as this was the umpteenth time the teen had been reminded over the years. “But Malfoy is correct. Crabbe and Goyle are useless in the classroom but we know why. Same can’t be said for Greengrass, Flint, or Pritchard. Other than Parkinson holding her own, as well us, our House is floundering.”

“We can’t expect the goddamn Golden Gryffindor Girl to tutor her enemies into making then better students and giving up the only advantage they have can you?”

For some reason, Malfoy wanted to defend that, but he knew Blaise was right. She was the advantage the pride of lions had. If not for her their academic rivals would be the ravens, and some of them weren’t above a cheat or trick to maintain their lofty ambitions. 

“Look, Granger can’t resist a challenge. She loves to show off, probably gets a fucking rush off it. So let her. But you have to pay her. And with real galleons, don’t even try it, she’ll know and she’ll hex you. She’s already squared off with Potter and the Weasel. Considering the current state of affairs, I’d say she’s more than willing to show her housemates just who they’re fucking with.”

Blaise raised a single eyebrow.

“And you got all that from a single conversation with her? That somehow didn’t leave you hexed in the process?”

Draco faced off against his two cohorts, daring them to contradict him. Theo was smart in the way that he knew when to be quiet, something Blaise lacked entirely. But Blaise was uncanny in his reading of body language. Draco tried reeling it back. “She agreed to help me with the Patronus. So I’m also taking one for the team, ok? You think I want her telling me to think happy thoughts while not throwing a curse her way? No.” he scoffed, arms crossed. “But she’s on the same level. And too fucking humble to not be helpful.”

“I do give her that. Witch can cast like nobody’s business.” Blaise replied. “I overheard some details from the cowardly lions’ gossip. She was casting shit nonverbally and wandless, simultaneously.”

Theo whistled. “That’s advanced.” They wouldn't be taught that until Sixth year.

“Yeah, get this. It was like she didn’t even realize it either. Someone said she snapped out of it the moment McGonagall had her wand, like she’d come to after being possessed or stunned.”

Draco hadn’t heard that. He’d heard about the swearing, the pillows, the books flying…but he’d assumed it happened in an order, and playfully. But the more he learned the more he wondered…was she really in the right house after all?

“If only she were Slytherin.” Theo hummed. “Just think of the Hellfire that would’ve brought. A Muggleborn, in Slytherin? And that powerful? Salazar would be rolling in his tomb.”

“I’d make an exception for her.” Blaise smirked. 

“Excuse me?” Draco snorted.

“Oh I know she’s your favorite target, but that’s just house rivalry. I wouldn’t mind seeing what’s under those robes.”

Draco kicked him from under the table.

“Ow! The fuck man, it was a joke!”

“There won’t be any talk like that when she’s here. And I expect the two of you to keep the others in line.”

“There’s no way by the grace of Salazar himself that she’s going to be welcomed in here and you know it. The rest of the house will turn on you just as easily. We’ve got to do this on neutral ground, and for Slytherin sake, get at least a Hufflepuff to agree to come. She might possess a touch of the Gryffindor bravery but even she’s gonna feel the pressure of being surrounded—outnumbered—by a den of vipers.” Theo pointed out.

Ah, good old Theo. He knew how a herd mentality could easily sway others that might not have taken issue at first but wouldn’t spare a thought to go along with an ambush attack.

“Want me to put an ad in the school paper for an inter-house tutor session, hosted by one Granger, come one come all? Bring your galleons!” Draco teased, realizing that was the bloody answer as soon as he said it. “I’m fucking brilliant.”

Theo and Blaise clapped.  
…………………..

Two days later:

“The fuck is this?” Ron bellowed upon entry to the common room, brandishing the school’s paper and slapping the article into Hermione’s lap. Crookshanks had darted away hissing as the other housemates perked up. Another fight? This early?

“Looks like snogging Brown has dwindled your IQ even further if you can’t tell by the bold lettering of the headline.” She replied in a cool, deadly calm tone that was somehow more terrifying than her boisterous shouting she usually brought to the verbal spar.

“I know what the fucking headline says!”

“Ron! Language!” Harry admonished.

“It’s alright Harry, can’t help he was raised in-” she cut herself short from insulting the Burrow any further when Ginny charged in. “Such a testosterone filled environment.” She finished, sparring Ginny any further embarrassment.

“What’s got into you this time?” she came up, accepting the paper from Hermione’s lazily outstretched hand. She read the headline. “Granger offers inter-house study session, no insults, no fights. Pay up front and attention and you’ll get the grade….”

The rest of the Gryffindors went into a verbal panic, sputtering at once with accusations of her being a traitor, or hard up for money, and the like. She sat there, one leg crossed over the other, an unreadable smirk on her face, watching as the pride of lions that once normally stood together in unity fall asunder. It was entirely amusing.

Harry’s emerald eyes sought her out with a silent plea. All she did was shake her head and mouth the word “no”. She brushed her skirt off and stood up. “Well, any of you are welcome to come of course; some of you actually need it.”

“Like hell I’m going to pay you-” the furious ginger started.

“When you could just copy off of mine? Well those days are over Ron.” Hermione crossed her arms. “I’m not carrying you all the way to graduation anymore. With this, I might even make some new friends who appreciate me for something other than my grades.”

Ron scoffed. “That’s all you were ever good for.”

Harry’s jaw slackened, aghast. Ginny spun on him, finger pointed and ready to invoke the persona of their mother and chastise him when Hermione crossed the distance and reared back with her famous right-hook. Blood spurted from his nose as he crumpled to the floor in a heap, keening like a newborn. She stood over his form, curled up fetally and glanced around the room to the others.

“I’d love to hear someone else make that claim. Please. Make my morning.” She addressed in an eerily sweet tone. No one dared. One kid ran out of the room, straight to the loo. “Good. Now if you’ll excuse me. Breakfast.” She bowed out with all the grace of a queen.

Ginny turned to her housemates. “If anyone of you tell McGonagall, I’ll finish what she started.” She looked down at her brother. “It was me who hit you, got that? For what you said.” She walked over to the wall, inhaled deeply, and with an anguishing war cry, punched the wall once, just to bust her knuckles.

Harry stood stunned. What was happening to this place?  
…………………….

It was a class free day, students dressing in casual clothing, filing in later than usual, hence why breakfast was shifted an hour back, to accommodate the late sleepers. Hermione entered the hall alone, sat alone, ate alone. When the others filed in, they gave her an all too noticeable berth.

“Look mate, you see that?” Blaise leaned over.

“Like who can’t?” Draco spat in return. This was not entirely unexpected, but still…it was. 

“I’d say the pride has started split.” Theo mused, shifting the school paper and engaging in another scope by Rita. “That woman is far too obsessed with Potter for her own good. It’s like Diggory doesn’t even exist to her and he’s the actual qualified student in the tournament.”

Draco ‘harumphed’ in agreement, almost sorry he even dragged Hermione into the drama. It hadn’t knocked Potter off his game at all. He still attacked the tournament trials with the same gusto, still performed the same in classes, still dealt with his friends squabbling. Sure, he knew how to egg him and rile him up, but it was dawning on him that Potter was too used to it by now, and if he was going to continue being an arse to him, he’d have to find new ways.

Or just give up the whole thing in general.

He’d often wondered what it would’ve been like had Harry accepted his offer of friendship back in first year. The novelty of being friends with The-Boy-Who-Lived was too good to pass up, but Weasley got to him first. Must’ve looked pathetic enough that Potter took pity on him, and once he realized whom he’d befriended it was too late to back out. Even the Sorting Hat thought he’d make a good Slytherin…Sometimes the Hat found a student so perfectly deserving of two houses that it would let the student decide.  
But that was neither here nor there.

He managed to convince the Slytherins who were failing their classes that if they took Granger’s study session that he’d treat them all on their trip to Hogsmeade. It was enough to get them to agree to part with their galleons and bite their tongues. He was adamant about the M word. He was adamant about sneaking in wands and trying to jinx her. It took every threat he could come up, every steely gaze he could throw and the support of Zabini and Nott as enforcers for the Slytherins to agree, much to Crabbe and Goyle’s dismay.

“You two are going.” He pointed at them, accepting no excuses.  
………………………

An empty classroom had been selected that hadn’t been put to use in a while since they had no teacher proficient in the subject currently. A long table and a cluster of desks had been arranged, along with a blackboard listing the subjects she was willing to tutor. Draco and his two buddies were first to arrive to help get things in order, knowing Slytherins would be taking up most of the student body.

She was standing on a step stool, wiping the bookcase off with a cloth when they came in. “Take a seat.” She said her most teacher like voice without turning her back.  
“Actually, we’re here to make sure things so smoothly.” Draco answered.

She turned around, not expecting him to be the first one through the door, but then again, not surprised. “I didn’t know you were a snake charmer too.” She teased, causing eyebrows to rise.

“Course, it takes one to charm one.” He replied just as smoothly.

Blaise and Theo glanced at each other and conveyed the same thought before a few Ravenclaw and Hufflepuffs shuffled in. Of course the Slytherins would slip in last for dramatic effect. This was a class free day and here they were with the swottiest student in the whole school to tell them what they were doing wrong.

Many rolled their eyes as she opened the lesson with a little introductory speech.

“I’d like to thank everyone for coming and to be mindful of the rules I set up. Before I begin though: Hopkins, undo that concealment charm, you’re not fooling anybody. Parkinson, put those away because I know you don’t have enough to share. And Greengrass, if you would kindly stop with the glare. I didn’t drag you here and I’m not forcing you to stay. Those who are here for their tutoring, please pay up. And I am not promising a grade either, so don’t come back at me if you don’t pass.”

Draco had to admit, she’d make a damn fine professor here in the future.

The called out students eventually did as they were asked and settled in their seats. There were two Ravenclaws, four Hufflepuffs, nine Slytherins, and one Gryffindor. There were three subjects: Charms, Herbology, and History of Magic. Some students only needed one subject while others were in need of all three. 

For Herbs, she only went over lists of ingredients and uses of said herbs. There were no plants involved. It was a standard refresher course for those who seemed to have forgotten everything that was literally in print. She did use some transfiguration to convert an object into said plant for a diagram when one student needed a visual aid. She morphed it back once the lesson was over and four students exited.

In History, she covered three different years’ current assignment, and advised them to pair up and quiz each other on the curriculum if they felt the need to continue later in the evening.

For Charms though, she was most hesitant, for students would need their wands returned. Blaise and Theo had gone around, collecting each one and held onto them, ensuring that only she and Draco were armed. As well as themselves, they were the hired help after all. 

“Remember, it’s Leviosa, not Leviosuh.” Someone quoted her from first year in a mocking tone, causing a giggle fit.

“Well, someone was paying attention.” She quipped. “And how are your levitating skills?” she jeered back at the student, who gulped and fidgeted at having the joke get turned on them. She narrowed her eyes. “That’s what I thought.”

Draco stifled a laugh. It caught in his throat though when he saw her hand as she lifted her vinewood wand and flicked her wrist. Her knuckles were swollen red, like she’d hit something. He remembered that fist in his face last year, he could only imagine she got better, or at least hit harder now. He still didn’t like seeing it.

After someone sent a gust of wind to blow up her skirt, which she halfway prevented from revealing her knickers completely, Draco grabbed the Slytherin up by their collar and literally threw him out of the door and into the hall. If he was willing to do that with a member of his own, he’d certainly do it to anyone. There were no more antics.

The lesson concluded amicably. Draco slapped a galleon of his own on the table. “Well I owe you Granger, you certainly proved you could teach even a Slytherin.” He said plainly for the rest of the students to hear and see. 

She picked up the coin and tossed it into her purse with the rest. “Don’t think I’m going to let you walk away with the House Cup without a fight.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He smirked.

The others filed out, all a buzz. Malfoy and Granger, talking to each other without insults and curses thrown? Zabini and Nott also left with the herd, there was talk of a party being thrown and ideas of where to host it. And Zabini never could resist a party.

Hermione started cleaning off the blackboard when Draco’s hand came up and took the cloth, turned her around and brought her right hand up to inspect it. “What happened?” he all but demanded.

“Something stupid. Don’t worry about it.” She shrugged, her eyes going elsewhere.

“Oh don’t you do that with me.” He growled. “There’s only room here for one angsty teen, and you certainly aren’t it. Now what happened?”

“I don’t answer to you Malfoy.” She snapped. She was doing everything in her power to not yank the hand back and slap him for thinking he could get in her personal space like this and touch her so familiarly; no matter how much she hated to admit she liked it.

“Did you do this to yourself…because of me?” his voice was laced with such concern her will broke.

“What? No…Of course not. Why would you-”

“Well you said it was something stupid.”

“Yeah, Weasley stupid!” she barked. “It’s his stupid face and his stupid voice and his stupid words and his stupid hands all over stupid Lavender and it’s everywhere I look and go-”

“Shh.” He whispered, placing his pointer finger up to her lips. “Enough of that git. Enough of him hurting you.” His thumb traced the rim of her bottom lip as he spoke, his voice so soft and soothing.

“Malfoy…stop…” she pleaded.

His hand froze.

“I have…I have to go.” She started pulling herself out of his grasp.

“Oh? You have a hot date with a book?” he teased, watching her face flush again. “It’s always a book isn’t it? Because books don’t argue back do they? At least, unless you enchant them to.”

“Not funny.” She argued, eyes welling up. “Why are you-”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked. 

“I can’t do this.” She whispered. “I can’t have you be so close, like this.”

His thumb ran softly along the hickey he left on her wrist. “Why not?” he leaned in closer to her, his mouth almost on her ear. “Tell me. Convince me.”

Oh god, that scent.

\--oh her hair—

\--he smells like trouble. Rich arrogant trouble.—

\--she’s so soft—

\--he’s so close—

\--I could sink my teeth into her right here, mark her for everyone to see—

\--his touch burns. I’m literally on fire—

She closed her eyes. She could feel his chest beating against hers.

He tilted his head, his nose burying itself into her chestnut locks, inhaling that intoxicating muggle shampoo. What is this stuff? He still caressed that wrist, his other hand on her waist, pulling her to meet him. Her other hand came up to rest on his shoulder.

“We’re…enemies…” she choked out.

“Are we?” he challenged, his hand sliding to rest at the small of her back, feeling her shiver.

“You hate me.” She replied, her mind fuzzy.

“Do I?” he drawled. 

“You…you…”

His hand slid up her back, feeling the brackets of her bra along the way. She stiffened, his hand kept sliding upwards, delicately tickling the fine hairs of her neck, causing her knees to wobble and grasp onto him.

“Go on, tell me.” He teased, his lips brushing against her earlobe.

“You’re trouble…” she managed to cohesively put together.

“I know.”

His hand was entangled in her hair, fingers flexing like a cat pawing at the back of her skull.

“Stttaaaapppp” she breathlessly pleaded.

“Push me away if you really want me to stop.” He ordered, pulling her hair so she tilted her chin up, her eyes open and meeting his.

She had slowly slid her arm down across his chest, coming to rest at her hip where she gently slid her wand from its holster and pointed it at him. “Depulso.” She whispered so the spell wouldn’t be at full strength, but it knocked him back nonetheless, sending him straight back until he collided with the long table about three meters away. The force hadn’t hurt him, but he got the message.

She ran from the room.

Malfoy leaned back against the table, palms braced on the edge, exhaling deeply. That had been a close one. Way too close. Almost lost completely in the moment, it started out like tease but then…something just happened…

He ran a hand through his platinum hair, recalling how luscious those curls of hers felt. It was something he’d been dying to touch for well over a year now. The fantasy had become a reality and the reality had not disappointed. Now though, he worried he didn’t have the strength to refrain himself. It wasn’t like at Yule when he toyed with one bouncy loose curl; he had delved in right at the root. She could make rope with her hair it was so thick.

That ache in his chest returned, clenching deeply and with a fear invoking strength. What was this?  
………………………..


	9. Galleons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold is gold, doesn’t matter where it comes from. It’s still the source of greed. Whether you have tons of it or none at all.

Hermione normally would’ve avoided the common room given that it was class free day, but the rest of the Gryffindors had all but shoved Ron and Lavender out so they could go find their own place to snog without causing anymore issues. Given his broken nose and Ginny’s busted knuckles, both Weasley’s had been taken to the infirmary for care.

Madam Pomfrey merely rolled her eyes. ‘Siblings’ she chided to herself. Once they got the bleeding under control it was a simple mend, although tender. Too tender for him to be snogging his lovesick girlfriend, so he sulked in an armchair in the common room during his game of wizard’s chess with Harry.

And to think he used to love playing this game with HER.

The Devil herself walked in, face flushed and slightly out of breath. Harry was immediately on his feet. “You alright? Were you being chased?”

Hermione leaned against the door for a reprieve, catching her breath.

\--Lord I hope he didn’t chase after me. I can’t handle him right now.—

She shook her head. “Just excited.” She lied, bouncing her hefty coin purse in her hand. “I got enough to spoil myself well for Hogsmeade.”

The jingle caused ears to perk.

“There wasn’t any trouble?” Harry asked.

“That’s Slytherin gold.” Ron snarled, as if she somehow acquired tainted money.

She shot a glance at him, his nose still pink from healing. “Gold is gold Ron, I’d think growing up with so little, you wouldn’t care where it came from.”

Even she knew it was a low blow. But she no longer cared.

“Bitch.” Ron spat.

She opened the purse and flicked a galleon at him.

“Go buy a book on etiquette.” She said dismissively, tossing her hair aside. She hadn’t taken but two steps when Ron jumped to his feet.

“She’s cavorting with Malfoy!” he screamed, pointing at her as if somehow, everyone wasn’t aware of whom he meant. “I caught them last week in an empty classroom disrobing!”

Normally, she would’ve been mortified. Now she was just fuming. But the looks from her fellow Gryffindors were somehow comforting in their confusion. It would appear that many of them just did not believe his claim. It was too outrageous to even fathom, even if it was true.

“Ron, seriously man. What the hell is wrong with you?” Harry begged, losing his ability to keep this up any longer. “I know you’re pissed at each other but this? It’s Hermione for crying out loud!”

Hermione felt her eye twitch. ‘Oh it’s just Hermione, too nerdy and stuck up to give a boy the time of day.’

“Thank you for that beautiful defense Harry.” She replied dryly. “I can handle this on my own. But he’s not wrong in that I have been ‘cavorting’ with the enemy.” She said with dramatic finger quotes and deepening her voice. “After all, he helped keep the other Slytherins in line and even threw one out.”

“Wait what?” the eyes on his face went wide as Hedwig’s.

She shrugged. “Guess he’s tired of his mates not towing the line. He’s the only reason they have a lead right now.”

“Which you fucking gave him!” the redhead yelled.

“Oh shut up mate!” Dean hollered. “For once Ron, just keep it to yourself.” He wanted an explanation. The look on all the Gryffindors said the same thing.

She may have been outnumbered. She may have been surrounded. But she knew in a heartbeat that if she reached for her wand they’d all jump for cover. She didn’t fear them. They were all weak.

“I can have friends outside of Gryffindor. And I do. And I will be making more of them, seeing as I don’t need any in here.” She declared. With her first step, the flinch from every housemate was palpable as they backed up, prepared for anything she might try. Only Harry, stoic and confounded Harry remained still as she passed by him on her way to the girls’ dorm. He felt his heart rip in two as the two people he cared most for were all but trying to kill each other and there didn’t seem to be a way to make them stop.

Hermione tossed the coin purse on her bed. The money didn’t matter. She just wanted everyone to know she wasn’t a doormat to be trotted upon, that no one would be taking advantage of her, hence why the study session only had sixteen students instead of who knows how many. She took out her diary and sighed before putting the quill to paper, lamenting her innermost thoughts. It seemed as each day went, it was the only thing not judging her or using her for something.  
……………………

“Never thought I’d say this about that Gryffindor swot but she made that lesson easier to understand.” Goyle confessed when Draco slipped back into their common room.  
“Really now?” that was a first!

“Yeah. Who knows, maybe I’ll make that grade after all.” He smiled as he headed over to the cabinet for a snack.

\--If only Hermione could hear this.—

“Hey, we got the word ‘round going that the ‘party’,” Blaise said with finger quotes, “will be in the third floor tower when the real party will be in the Room of Requirement.” 

Leave it to the party animal to devise a fake party decoy to lure away unwelcomed guests and professors. 

“Nicely done Zabini.” He praised, lifting a bottle of butterbeer to his lips.

“And there’s a Granger pool going, you want in?”

Draco choked. “The fuck! What?”

He sputtered as his buddy patted his back and chuckled. “Oh mate, you’ve got a serious problem.”

Draco elbowed him. “The hell I don’t. Now tell me what do you have going on?”

“Oh I didn’t start this one Malfoy, this burst forth into creation on its own. But the talk was that they bet if she was invited that she wouldn’t come, and even if she did, she wouldn’t be any fun. So, my question is, what’s your bet?”

“Why does it matter? You’re probably right that she won’t even come.”

Blaise turned a chair around and straddled it. “Because I think you want her to be there.”

“Oh sure, that’s a sight.” Draco rolled his eyes.

Fuck. 

He shrugged. “Ok it might be entertaining.” He added nonchalantly.

. . . . . .

“Blaise, quit it.”

“Is that a blush I see?” the darker skinned boy leaned over. “Oh it is.”

“Blaise. I will kill you. Shut up.”

He chuckled in response. “Theo and I know what’s up. And we’re not insane enough to speak out of turn-”

“Are you sure about that?” Draco arched a skeptical eyebrow. “Because you’re insane enough to speak about it at all.”

Theo clamped a hand down on Draco’s shoulder, preventing him from going for the throat. Only someone as level headed as Nott could do such a thing. He spoke simply, softly, but when he did speak people listened. He patted the shoulder in a fatherly fashion, slating the temper in the little dragon.

“Wouldn’t hurt to invite her. No harm, no foul if she says no.” he calmly stated. “I saw that little display between you two.” He whispered as Blaise pushed up front the chair and whirled his robe in his flourishing exit. Draco flinched.

“Is that how she’s helping you with your Patronus? Being your little doll?”

Doll? 

He waited until the room was empty, turning to his friend and confidant. Theo let go of his shoulder and came around to sit in the chair their friend just vacated. “You took no precautions, no silencing charms, disillusionment. Lucky I hung back and was returning when that little….moment…happened. And you let her blast you back a good ways without so much as a sneer.”

Draco rolled his tongue in his mouth, crossing his arms.

“No one else knows, nor will they.” Theo promised. “But I at least would like to know just how far you intend to play this out.”

“What are you, her guardian?” Malfoy snorted.

“Someone has to speak on her behalf. Blood status and house rivalry aside, just what is your goal here?”

His resolve failing, he ran a hand up his face and through his hair. “I don’t know. I didn’t intend to get caught up. When I told Weasley I was making her mine I only meant to rile his little arse up more than he was already. But something happened yesterday while we were at the pond…and well, it just kinda happened…and then, I was able to cast the Patronus.”

Theo had a hand pressed firmly to his mouth as his chin rested in his palm. “Elaborate.” He pressed, egging Draco on to divulge in the details.

The blond squirmed for a second, but Nott sat firm. Slytherin paranoia settling in, he looked around the room one last time. No one was here if they didn’t have to be. Everyone had their own plans. It was just them. If he was being honest, and of course he wouldn’t confess it even under Veritaserum, he had been waiting for the right moment to talk about it to someone. Just who that someone was, he hadn’t known who it would be. 

But damn, it felt good to lift some of the burden off his chest.  
…………………

Owls flew overhead, dropping off parcels and letters for students as they occasionally arrived by the dinner hour. In the hubbub of feathers and letters and wrappings, it was easy to sneak a note from his table to hers. She sat with her Weasley sidekick and Potter, who couldn’t even bring himself to look at his former bosom buddy. Another little lovers spat among the pride of lions? 

She’d taken the note and unfurled it in her lap:

Study session went well. You’re invited to a party tonight  
Room of Requirement after curfew, if you’re up for the challenge  
-DM

She brought her head up, locking eyes with him immediately; he’d been watching her the whole time and anticipated the move. She nodded. Then she returned to her dinner and conversation with her few steadfast friends. It wasn’t that she was jovial and laughing, it was a subdued atmosphere. Something certainly had happened again and he’d bet his vault the culprit was that Weasel. 

He was gonna have to take care of that moron, and soon.

The irony was currently lost on him, he, her bully of three and a half years of school was now suddenly coming to her defense against one of her closest chums.

After her dinner Hermione abruptly left the table, leaving Harry and Ginny to converse until Harry signaled to her to go after their wayward friend. A silent conversation passed between the two, understanding that it was clearly on their shoulders to be supportive of their personal best friends through this terribly rough time.

The youngest Weasley had seen her fair share of brotherly spats, mainly between the twins, but nothing that had reached the level of what her brother and Hermione were at. For one, there was the supposed romantic element in the air which led to this in the first place. It was easy to naturally take her bestie’s side; she knew her brother could be a right twit at times. But she recalled how Hermione had caught herself and changed what she was going to say upon seeing her this morning, and that hurt. Ginny knew there was another low blow intended. She may be thirteen but she wasn’t an idiot.

She let Hermione have a couple meters lead on her, she didn’t want to rush up on her, nor did she want her out of her sight in case she was running off again. But instead, the brunette just marched on and up towards the tower and to their dorms.

“You’ve followed me the entire time Gin, stop hiding in the shadows.”

Slightly miffed at being out the redhead emerged. “I thought you might’ve gone off to wherever it is you’ve fluttered off to recently.”

“Where I go is my business.” Hermione replied. “It seems I’m going to need it more than ever. They’re all afraid of me now.”

Ginny came up to her and took her hand. “I’m not. And you shouldn’t let this row with my brother alienate you from the rest our housemates.”

They currently had the bedroom to themselves. In about ten minutes, they could expect to start hearing others tromp through the common room. Hermione sat on her bed, pulling Ginny to join her. “I’m sneaking out after hours to a party. Can I trust you with that?” she said plainly.

Ginny’s mouth gaped open. This certainly was not what she ever expected from her rule-abiding bestie. But given that she wanted an outlet, it might just be the thing she needed. She reluctantly nodded. Now that Lavender was Ron’s girl, she’d find any reason to stick it to Hermione. If only she knew how little Granger felt about Brown…

“I want to apologize to you Gin, for anything I’ve said about your home that might offend you. You know that I love The Burrow; it’s everything I’ve ever imagined a magical home to be. But when Ron starts in on me, I know it’s a card I can use.”

Ginny implored her to continue with her curious gaze.

“Before you joined us in second year, Ron would go on about The Burrow in some unflattering ways. He was always jealous that you go your own room—but come on, you’re the only girl, so of course—and he’d say things like how his whole house could fit in a classroom… So I know that growing up without a lot of money or space is just something I can throw back at him. It’s cheap and dirty and I don’t like having to use it but he’s pushed me beyond caring how I hurt him back.”

She sighed. Apologizing for something she shouldn’t have to apologize for. Draco would tease her for it for sure….Wait, why am I thinking of him right now?

“Anyway, I just want you aware. I don’t know how long this will carry on because frankly I’m tired of the insults.”

Ginny took her hand. “You haven’t offended me—yet—but please be cautious when dredging up our living conditions. It’s not my peeve, but it could be depending what you say. Which has me wondering, what did he even do to start this off?”

Hermione shrugged. “It’s been a lot of things actually. The more I look back, the more stuff I can add to the list. And I’d rather not.” Ginny flipped Hermione’s hand up and gave it a comforting squeeze, bringing her other to top it, a gesture her mother ingrained in her when she took note of the purple mark on the wrist of her friend.

“Whoa, what’s this?” she asked, leaning down to look.

Hermione started to pull away, ears turning red.

“Wait a minute…” Ginny’s eyes widened as she caught on. She read teen magazines, she knew what this was. “Merlin’s beard! Is Ron right about you and Malfoy after all?”

“Shhh! Gin!” Hermione whispered, pressing her hand to cover her friend’s mouth. She strained her ears for sound. None came. “Why would you even think it’s Malfoy of all people?”

“Oh girl please.” The redhead rolled her eyes. “Like everyone hasn’t seen you two practically racing each other in class to be first. And then he helped with the study group? And you’ve been sneaking off, now this little adventure you’ve got coming up?”

Ok, Hermione had to admit Ginny was clever enough to put it all together.

“What I don’t know is the robe rumor. Did he make that up?”

The Muggleborn witch sighed. She really hadn’t wanted to mention this. The whole thing was absurd. But she nodded, let Gin have her moment of shock and then clarified that they had accidently took each other’s robe after sitting on the grass. Truly innocent and an accident but Ron took it the wrong way and wasn’t seeing reason. So she had to act.  
“I get it.” Ginny said, biting her lip. “Ron is so quick to jump to conclusions, you had to subdue him. But now I see why he thinks you’re betraying us all. Man, this sucks being caught in the middle.”

Hermione nodded in acquiescence. She hated putting Harry and her out like this, but there were always two sides to every fight, and a line had been drawn in the sand.   
“Sooooo,” she teased. “What’s Draco like?”

…………………………

Zabini leaned over to Nott. “Is it just me, or is our prince nervous?”

“I will end you in this life and the next if you don’t seal your lips.” Malfoy growled as he pulled yet another fine looking shirt out of the wardrobe.

“That one looks good.”

“That’s what you said about the last one!” he snapped.

Theo rolled his vermillion eyes. “They’re all good; your family spares no expense.”

“Yeah, but still. I hear some of the foreign students are invited, so I need to look sharp.” 

“Oh? Is there a particular Beauxbaton you want to impress? Or a certain Gryffindor?” Blaise teased. 

Draco snorted. “As if I could impress her with a shirt.”

“Then why are you trying so hard?”

“I’m not trying anything!”

“Down boy.”

Draco growled.

Theo sat and watched the exchange, amused and ready to referee. But even he had to admit, the young Malfoy was just a little on edge at the prospect of one particular brunette attending. He couldn’t stop smiling at dinner, even if he hadn’t realized it. It was trait often marked on, that Theodore Nott was quite mature for his age, in fact so that he often fooled others into believing he was a year ahead than he was.

Blaise was quite the opposite, brash and fueled by hormones and emotions, often instigating others with his blasé attitude and penchant for mischief. They complimented Draco well, almost like his voice of reason and temptation. Far better than either Crabbe or Goyle, who were mainly at his beck and call for bullying others or carrying his bags. As of late, he hadn’t been utilizing them as much as he had been and they were hovering on the edge of finding a new alpha to follow.

Theo nodded approval for the long sleeve grey to black ombre button up with the head of a black dragon embroidered on the front pocket. Paired with casual black slacks, Draco still attained that allure of being a Malfoy without trying too hard. He contained the smirk he felt at seeing his friend make these little strides into the possibility of friendship with Granger, let alone anything else.

He secretly hoped it was something his father wouldn’t be hearing of….  
……………………..


	10. Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione Granger heads long into proving she’s not some stuck up bookworm. But who is trying to prove it to?

What’s Draco like?

Well that was a loaded question. One that required too long an explanation—to which not even she knew the correct answer—and did not want to be overheard describing.

“He’s been nice.” Was her lame answer, which did not meet Ginny’s satisfaction.

“Nice?” she arched a red eyebrow. “Do nice boys leave marks on girls like this?” she pointed to the obvious mark.

“It was an experiment.” She defended, cheeks flushing.

“And this party?” Ginny prodded. “Is that an experiment too?”

Hermione shrugged. “It could be. Honestly the only parties I’ve ever been have been birthdays so I don’t know what to expect from one with no obvious theme or host.”

“Don’t take notes, don’t even bring a book.” Ginny said with an air of authority. “And wear something nice.”  
…………………..

So now Hermione found herself in the floral print spring dress she intended to wear to Hogsmeade along with strappy sandals. She slipped on a cardigan at the last minute, covering her bare shoulders, that just so happened to be a brilliant vermillion green. The dress itself was cream ombred to green at the hem adorned with clusters of pansies and forget-me-nots. Inside the cardigan was a holster for her wand that she had sewn in herself.

Casting a series of charms to mask any sight or sound that might give her away, she slipped out of the dorm twenty minutes after lights out and through the common room, past the portrait of the fat lady and then through the corridors to the ROR, just hoping this wasn’t some cruel joke. She’d had enough of those lately and just wanted to relax.  
Harry had told her about it, learning about it himself from Dumbledore and Dobby the house elf. He said, it appeared when someone was in real need of it, and more than one person could use it, they just needed to be thinking of the same thing. Since it was hosting a party, there would be several people “in need” of it and therefore should have no problem activating it. 

Across the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy on the seventh floor, she found a little note attached to the wall with Spelltape that simply said “Fun”. Right, think of something fun, a room to party in, hang out with friends. Walk past it three times with this thought in mind. Have the need.

A door appeared and she instantly grabbed the knob. 

No hesitating or it might close up and not work.

She swung it open and slid in with it shutting behind her in one fluid motion before her eyes even took in the room. She braced for anything—laughter, a splash of water, even a stupefy spell—nothing happened. She turned and looked at the room, flabbergasted to see an actual lounge, sofas and tables with a dozen students or so sipping drinks and sitting around chatting with each other. Music played in the background; popular dance beat stuff she’d heard all summer.

“Ah, looks like you owe me!” someone shouted to their friend. “She showed up after all!” a few kids had a laugh. She flushed but didn’t flinch, she couldn’t afford to.

She shrugged her shoulders like it meant nothing. She saw several kids gathered in clusters—all friends—and none offered a seat or invitation for her to join them. It didn’t matter; she needed a drink so she marched straight to the table and poured herself a cup of punch. Bringing the cup to her lips, she wondered if this was such a good idea after all when a voice addressed her.

“Color me surprised to see you breaking the rules, especially after tutoring a bunch of slacking Slytherins.” Theodore Nott stated coolly, reaching for a cup.

“It’s been an interesting year for me.” She stated. “I’m making some changes.”

“You certainly are.” The boy replied. “It hasn’t gone unnoticed.”

She shivered at that statement, wondering if it was safe here. She grabbed a little cake as she started to walk away from the table, turning to nearly slamming into Draco, but not before her cup sloshed its contents on his beautiful shirt. They stood there for a brief second, enduring the laughs from witnesses in their shock.

“Really?” he huffed.

“Oh I’m sorry, I’ll get that!” she panicked, grabbing a handful of napkins and immediately started wiping and patting at his chest before she saw his face go completely red.

\--Oh shit, I pissed him off—

“The muggle way? Really Granger…” he scoffed, halting any further movement from her before she realized how foolish she looked.

\--Oh bloody brilliant, fall right back into muggle reactions while attending a magic school, that’s intelligent—

“I’ll have you know,” she started in her uppity tone as she removed her wand from her cardigan, “…it’s an effect way to reduce the amount of energy needed while doing this.” And with a flourish of her wrist, the wetness dried up and the stain faded away. She stood smugly as if it had been her plan all along, daring him to say something about her flawless technique. 

He glanced at his shirt and touched the spot. “Well I assume nothing than the best from the school’s brightest witch.” He sniffed, picking up a cup of his own, then her discarded one. “Go sit before you spill on someone else.” He ordered, taking both their cups to the punch bowl.

“Come on.” Theo lead with his chin, his hands filled with a drink and an h'orderves. “You can sit with us since there are no other fourth year buddies of yours around.”

\--Did you have to point that out?—

She looked around. There were no uniforms here, no house alliances. Just kids hanging out, some snogging, some drinking something probably much stronger than punch. Fourth Years and up. She wouldn’t look out of place sitting on a sofa occupied by Slytherins. It seemed they had a card game going and had broken for refreshments.   
Blaise stretched his long legs, getting comfy as he leaned back. “Well well well, the Golden Gryffindor Girl deigns to join us. Welcome your highness.” He teased.

“I didn’t realize there were so many nicknames out for me…” she warily replied as she gathered her skirt and took the edge of the couch across from him.

“Oh there’s a few…” he chuckled. “Some I won’t repeat. We’ll keep it civil tonight.”

“I appreciate it.” She said, feeling a brush against her shoulder. With a turn of her head, she was met face-to-face with a red Solo cup and the cool grey eyes of a particular Slytherin nudging her knee with his own.

“You’re in my spot.” He clarified.

“I didn’t see your name on it.” She instantly retorted on instinct before reeling back. This was a party after all, nobody was being hostile. “But you could say the magic word.” She teased.

He squinted. –Oh that again? Really Granger? You wanna play like that?—

“If you don’t move, I’ll just sit on you.” He dared.

Hermione took her cup from his hand and lavished a long, slow sip from the plastic device, waiting for him to say please. Which he did not. Calling him on his bluff. In front of his friends and anyone else who might be watching.

Draco, prideful to his core, couldn’t let her win something like that. So he did what any self-respecting Slytherin would do when challenged by a snooty Gryffindor: he sat on her.

He plopped down, maybe a little rougher than necessary, but enough for her to realize the folly of her ways. It got the reaction he wanted, her utter embarrassment at being called out, and the entertainment of his friends. Theo immediately took the drink from her hand before it could be spilled again and collected his cards. Blaise snort laughed and picked up his, darting a glance over them at Draco’s smug face as Hermione squirmed underneath him.

“Move your bony arse!” she cried as Draco leaned back, pressing his body fully against her, squishing her into the couch cushions.

“Sorry love, what was that? I couldn’t hear you.” He teased as he forced a stretch and squished her even further. The left hand was digging her fingernails into his shoulder blade and the right came around, smacking him in the ribs until he firmly took hold of her wrist.

“Let’s not damage these any further, shall we?” he suggested lightly, making a show of her busted knuckles. “Not the hands of your typical bookworm, are they?”

“Looks like someone likes to throw hands every now and then.” Blaise commented, slapping a card down and selecting another. “I’d watch out for those Draco. You have first ‘hand’ experience with that, don’t ya?” he laughed at his own little pun.

“I’ll have you kno-” he began but then let out a high pitch scream and leapt off the girl and sofa altogether, a hand immediately touching the offended spot as he spun on her. His friends leaned back, protecting their drinks. “Did you just fucking BITE me?” he hollered, completely and genuinely shocked.

Hermione jumped to her feet and squared up to him. “You bet your bony arse I did.” She snapped, and then made a little bite at the end for emphasis. The look in her eye was predatory and playful. Purely Slytherin. 

\--Eye for an eye Draco—

Blaise bellowed with body shaking laughter, slapping his knee with unfiltered joy. This was just far too entertaining. “Oh I like this girl!” he cried, wiping his eyes. “She Who Bites Dragons!” he added. “There’s a new one!”

“She’ll have an entire book dedicated to all her titles, good and bad before the year is out.” Theo remarked coolly, joining in the joke in his calm demeanor.

“Hey, you owe me again!” that same voice called out to their friend.

“What the heck is that going on back there?” she asked, turning to address Draco’s friends, who in her opinion, seemed more inclined to answer.

“Oh just a little bet among friends.” Blaise replied as if it were perfectly natural.

Hurt registered across her face for a second before she pulled herself upright. Her eyes narrowed at Draco. “I see now.” She nodded to herself. “That’s the real reason wasn’t it?” She adjusted her cardigan which had become rankled and hung off one shoulder. 

“I didn’t have anything to do with that.” Draco said, pointing off into the general area. 

She spun on her heel and started storming off.

“Her-eh wait!” he called out, catching himself before he could finish saying her name out loud in front of everyone. He made a grab for her arm but she angled it away as she dodged between a few people and slammed her cup back down on the refreshment table. 

“Everybody thinks I’m too stuck up to even know how to have fun, isn’t that true?” she hollered to the onlookers. “Got a bet going that I wouldn’t show, a bet that I wouldn’t talk to anyone or what? What else is on the list eh?”

No one seemed inclined to give her answer. She just nodded to herself.

“I told ya this would happen.” A snarky female voice lanced the air.

Hermione turned to address the girl. Slytherin, of course. Dark haired, cut short, slight Irish tilt in her speech. Pansy Parkinson.

“I knew you wouldn’t last long in here. And I figured you’ve had some sort of blow up. Looks like I earn a few galleons back.” She snipped.

“You’re welcome for the Herbology lesson, Parkinson. You still won’t make an O.” Hermione snapped back. A few voices jeered. Someone made a feline hissing sound.

Pansy rolled her eyes. “I don’t need an O, not in same way you do.” She sneered.

Hermione flinched at the jab to her perfect grade score. E’s and O’s across the board, except for Flying of course. But she made up for that with extracurricular classes. But something about the insult didn’t hurt as bad as she might’ve thought. Whether or not it was due to having everyone’s attention on her yet again—so this must be how Harry feels all the time—or just the strain she’d been under recently from dealing with Ron, she turned tactics.

“You know what, you’re right Pansy.” She said clearly, taking a win for the surprise response. “I love having excellent marks. It just validates how much better I really am than half the study body here. You call it being snobbish, but I call it confident in my ability. If anyone knows what it’s like being better than the rest, then by all means, they’re welcome to challenge me.”

It was an open statement, addressed to all who overheard it.

But no one was taking it. A least not right now.

The silence—except for the distant music—was broken with the well timed jovial laugh from Blaise Zabini. A second or two delay and soon others were following, first by peer pressure but then the true inflections of laughter infiltrated, the mood in the room returning to normal. Blaise bounded up to Hermione and handed her a little flask, encouraging her to take a sip.

She accepted the flask and swallowed—a little too quickly—and scrunched her face as her throat burned. “The fuhuck is that?” she coughed, waving a hand in front of her face to keep eye burning tears at bay.

“Firewhiskey.” He answered. “Shoulda nipped it. Sorry, forgot to tell ya that.”

Riiiiiight.

“Second sip’s better.” He added, pressing it to her again. She hesitated, but knowing she was being watched and judged for every single action she made in here, she took it and sipped gingerly this time. To her surprise, it did follow smoother. The sip turned into a full on draught before Zabini feared he’d lose his stash and whisked it back.

She exhaled a breath and was surprised it didn’t come out as a flame. Having passed some sort of unspoken initiative, Pansy motioned for her to join the circle of girls she had sitting on a rug, surrounding a bottle. Hermione came up and was surprised to see Pureblood Slytherins actually scooting to make room for her. She sat and was introduced properly to Millicent Bulstrode, Tracey Davis, and Daphne Greengrass.

“Pretty brave words from a Mud—I mean, Muggleborn.” Daphne lazily drawled with a flick of her hair. “Then again, bravery is such a ridiculous Gryffindor trait, isn’t it?”

Unsure if she should retrieve her wand or not, Hermione tried to not let the taunt get to her. “It’s come in handy.” 

The girls laughed.

“Oh I’m sure, with all the shenanigans you’ve had with Potter and the Weasel.”

Hermione couldn’t help but giggle at the abridged nickname for Ron.

“He is a weasel, isn’t he?” she commented, much to their surprise and delight.

“Bashing one of your own? How UnGryffindorian.” Pansy replied haughtily. 

“Can we just drop the damn houses for a moment?” she blurted out. “I came here to get away from all kind of crap.”

“The little lioness has claws.” Tracey slipped in one last remark before pointing her wand at the bottle, causing it to spin. “Tell me Kitten, do you know how to play?”

Kitten?

Hermione regarded the girl. “Spin the bottle? Of course. Every muggle kid does this, sans magic of course.” She heard Millicent sniff with disgust by her side. She wasn’t comfortable sitting next to the larger girl who had her in a headlock during Dueling Club in second year, but she ignored the obvious rude gesture.

Millicent and Tracey were known half-bloods with good ties to pureblood families who didn’t blip much on her radar as they weren’t known instigators, like Pansy. Daphne on the other hand, was not only pureblood, but one of the “sacred twenty-eight” of higher pureblood society—a little lesson from Ginny—and her younger sister was in her second year, also in Slytherin, although absent from the party.

So Hermione watched as the girls took their turns spinning the bottle with their wands—when it was just as easy to spin by hand—and daring each other with an act or a confession of truth. Tracey dared Millicent to do a cartwheel, which she face planted attempting to their entertainment. Daphne forced a secret from Pansy on some matter that happened to them last year, so the whole thing went over Hermione’s head. Daphne still smacked Pansy’s arm for it though. When it was her turn, she took the bottle by hand and spun it like a natural. They all looked at her like she’d never heard of magic before.

“What? Just showing how it’s done otherwise.” she said in response to their looks. The bottle landed on Millicent. Hermione wasn’t feeling vindictive, but she needed to play at their level. “Millie, I dare you to apologize for the headlock in second year.” She declared with as much snoot in her voice as she could muster.

Pansy snickered. “It’s a dare Mil.”

“I heard.” The big boned girl shot back. She gruffly crossed her arms. “Sorry.”

“Oh like that fucking counts.” Tracey laughed. “Suck it up like a big girl.”

Hermione wasn’t sure if the adjective ‘big’ was added in there as a jab to her build or just the fact that none of her friends were letting her skate by, but it bolstered Millicent upright from her slouched positon and she exhaled. She turned and in one long quick breath uttered “I’m sorry Hermione for my unsportsmanlike behavior in Dueling Club. Please do forgive me and move on from that terrible experience.”

A little shocked at receiving far more than she ever would’ve expected, she cleared her throat. “You’re forgiven.” She swore she saw a twinge of pink to the girls’ cheeks, but she knew Millie had previously had a shot of firewhiskey herself. They all had.

At Pansy’s turn, the bottle landed in Hermione’s direction. The smile upon her lips was gleeful and slightly predatory. “Oh let’s see…Granger. Since you're not afraid to use that smart mouth...I dare you to kiss Draco Malfoy.”  
……………………………


	11. Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dared to kiss Draco Malfoy, Hermione introduces the witches and wizards to “Seven Minutes in Heaven” in hopes that whatever happens in the closet, stays in the closet.

How quickly her little argument with him had turned into a verbal sparring match with Pansy. How quickly he was forgotten as she declared she was better than half the school and dared anyone to challenge her. How quickly Blaise had switched the mood in the room back into its previous atmosphere, with a swig of his firewhiskey that she downed like a champ which earned her invite to sit the girls and join in their game.

And she had not turned back to look at him once.

Ignoring him.

Him, Draco Lucius Malfoy.

He had Blaise hand over his flask and took a hefty sip. It wasn’t his first time having it; he’d been nicking it from the liquor cabinet for a couple years. The substance burned the first go but mellowed thereafter. A touch of it made the punch all the better. He kept fighting the urge to turn and watch her spin the bottle with Pansy’s gang while trying to concentrate on the card game with the boys.

Millicent’s hefty body colliding with the floor had been entertaining and enough of a reason to fully turn and steal a glance. Hermione had barely contained her laugh, not wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings more than likely. Ugh, little Miss Considerate to everybody….

“Looks like the girls are having more fun than us. Let’s just watch them instead.” Blaise folded and said as if he hadn’t just been using Legilimency and poked into his head. Without rising to the bait, Draco simply turned in his seat and gave the quintet circle his full attention.

Blaise and Theo looked at each other. 

Blaise: Too easy. He mouthed.

Theo nodded.

He watched as Daphne forced Pansy to fess up on something and smacked her arm in the way friends do when only slightly miffed, so that it wasn’t anything serious. When it was Hermione’s turn they laughed as she spun the bottle by hand. She was so mugglish. But they were entertained nonetheless when Millicent was forced to apologize for second year.

“Man, Granger can hold a grudge.” Blaise commented.

Draco nodded, arms crossed. He was the reason for her many grudges. He still had a ways to go before she’d fully trust him, if ever.

“…kiss Draco Malfoy.”

Suddenly his spine stiffened as if he’d had a broomstick shoved up his ass. What the hell was Pansy thinking, daring her to do something like that? Oh he was gonna hex the hell out of Parkinson for this. No doubt this was revenge for Yule. Fuck.  
…………………….

Her blood ran cold. Kiss Draco Malfoy? In front of everyone in here?

Hermione brought a hand to her mouth and coughed, clearing her throat. “And if I refuse?”

Without missing a beat Pansy already had a worse dare lined up. “Then you’ll sit your naked arse in the punch bowl until my next turn.”

Hermione had no choice but to let out a laugh. “A bit extreme.” If she laughed she wouldn’t be gasping in shock nor running for the door. “But if I may, I’d like to suggest something.”

The girls rolled their eyes. Of course, leave it to Good Girl Granger to set parameters. “Have any of you ever heard of Seven Minutes in Heaven?” she asked them, watching as they exchanged incredulous looks. They conceded for her to continue. At least this would be an easier explanation than the one her mother awkwardly gave her about her body and boys now that she was approaching womanhood. “Well, the dare is still the same. Except that the two people go into a closet for the allotted time of seven minutes. Whatever happens in the closet goes as long as it’s consensual. Snogging, touching…or nothing, if the two people choose not to. It saves face. So no using any spells to eavesdrop.”

Pansy arched a dark eyebrow. “But I want to see his face when you do it. See if a Muggleborn has what it takes.”

“I actually like the idea.” Tracey piped in.

“You would.” Daphne rolled her eyes.

Millicent pondered a moment. “I think this is the only way we’re gonna get Granger to do it. So let’s have it.” She looked to Daphne to vote. Daphne stood up and tossed her blonde hair.

“We need a closet.” She announced to the room, and watched as one appeared on the wall where the guys sat. Draco nearly jumped out of his skin at the audacity of the girls discussing this as if he didn’t even have a say, but his buddies were purely enjoying the whole thing. She turned to Draco, smiling that sweet Slytherin smile, daring him to back out and look like a fool.

Draco took to his feet. “Well, I’ve been summoned. Ladies.” He addressed the girls, noticing how Hermione’s hair was hiding most of her face as she tried to act undisturbed by this whole farce. “Granger, if you would.” He motioned with his hand for her to come to her feet.

Mentally kicking herself in the arse for ever thinking this party would’ve gone without a hitch, she straightened her cardigan and slowly stood and walked around the circle of girls who giggled and whispered.

“I bet she won’t do anything.”

Her hair bristled.

\--Everyone thinks I’ve got my wand up my arse, even my own friends.--

“We need a timer!” someone called out and an hourglass appeared. Once flipped, it would countdown the seven minutes. Draco walked up to the closet door and pulled it open.  
“After you.” He said with a jerk of his head as she stood in front of it, bracing for what could be the next worst seven minutes of her life.  
………………………

CLICK

The moment the door closed they were encased in darkness, save for the light of the room shining under the door, taking a few precious seconds to adjust to.

“What the hell Granger!” he whisper shouted at her.

“I didn’t MAKE the dare you blockhead. I just thought of the one way I could get out of it. We don’t have to do anything.”

“Why’d you even go sit with them in the first place? You should’ve known they’d try something!”

“If you recall, I was trying to get away from you and this whole damn party! But no, me leaving just verifies what everyone already thinks of me. And if I don’t join in on something, people will still think I’m no fun. I had to do something!”

“You could’ve let me explain. But no, that damn lion pride of yours got you automatically thinking the worst-”

She jumped in. “How am I NOT supposed to be thinking the worst when it’s all you’ve done for the past three years?”

“And what have I done this year? NONE OF IT.” He added in a deeper tone, clearly getting angry.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” She swallowed hard. “Trying a new tactic? Befriend me. Lull me into a false sense of security only to deliver a blow so low I never can recover from?”

He slammed the wall on either side of her head, watching as she made a minor flinch but otherwise held her ground. “I have tried overlooking certain transgressions between us, yes, on my part, I admit that. Have I not said it clear enough that I consider you my equal in terms of ability here? Have I not stolen the lead on house points?”

She scoffed. “I can make that up in a day.”

“Then do it!” he raised his voice. Her hand flew up to shut him.

“They’ll hear you!” she admonished.

A heavy silence settled over them as they stood there, in the dark, so close, chests pounding.

“Look…earlier today…I wasn’t ready for that.” She admitted, feeling her cheeks flush. She immediately pulled her hands off his mouth, noticing he hadn’t removed his arms from the wall.

“And now?” he asked.

Her lip trembled as she fought for words, her cognition slowed by the firewhiskey. “I’ve never done this.” She confessed.

“Clearly.” He deadpan replied. “It was all over your face when we were at the pond. But that was different. It wouldn’t be genuine if we did that right now. But you know no one will believe nothing happened in here.”

She nodded.

“They’re going to expect something, and we don’t have time to argue.” His right hand slid down from the wall, touching her shoulder, moving aside the cardigan to expose the skin underneath. “It has to be a real one, you know that.”

She nodded again.

“And then, you’re going to be hassled.”

She scoffed second time. “That’s nothing new now.”

His face came up closer, almost kissing her as he spoke. “Do you trust me?”

“In this moment, I don’t have a choice.” Well, it was the truth.

The next time he spoke, his lips were nearly on her ear. “Make Weasley jealous.”

She didn’t know why, but a shiver thrilled through her with those three words. Yes, make him jealous. Make him turn red in the face and sputter with indignation at the mere sight of-

Teeth clamped onto her clavicle, unexpectedly, causing her to gasp quite audibly for anyone near the door to hear as she clutched onto him. She was finding it hard to breathe without sounding like a mandrake; Draco clamped his other hand over her mouth as he worked his tongue and lips on a central spot, focusing it so it would bloom brightly against her peachy completion. 

Her nails started digging into his back, to which he responded with a quick nip of his teeth, hearing her stifle another gasp with a little “ow” to it. “Your claws sweetheart,” he whispered. “Kindly retract them.”

“Sorry.” She apologized under his palm. She pulled his hand away, taking in a deeper breath. “Ok stop.” She begged. A second later, he did. He rested his forehead against her shoulder, catching his breath. The silence between them was deafening.

She brought her hand up to his neck, tracing her fingers lightly across his skin. “I like your shirt.” She whispered, to which she heard a little chuckle in response. “Unbutton it.”

He choked mid-chuckle, abruptly bringing his head up but she held onto his neck. “Hermi-”

“My turn.” She stated boldly, meeting his eyes.

His hands were suddenly unbuttoning his dress shirt of their own accord. He leaned down and tilted his neck so she could have access. Her soft lips pressed on the same spot he’d touched on her, taking a moment to breathe in his scent before she dabbed her tongue against his skin. She wasn’t sure before but now she was certain she could feel that he was trembling. Then she went in for the bite and he hissed, shoving his knuckles into his mouth as she took her turn marking him. He wasn’t surprised that she was being gentle, she confessed to never doing this and he knew she’d take care not to hurt-

Clamp!

Her teeth dug in, his knees buckled, and the door flew open.  
………………………

Pansy counted down the last ten seconds with glee, gathering an audience from their friends. The other partygoers from other years weren’t nearly as interested in a game of kissy-face from fourth years and were doing their own version of it in other corners if they weren’t dancing to the music and chowing on snacks. 

As the last granule of sand passed the narrow funnel Pansy pointed at the door with her wand and it flew open, revealing an open-shirted Draco Malfoy falling to his knees in front of Hermione Granger with a victorious look on her face she spun around, her lovebite visible for all to see as she demurely pulled the cardigan back into place.

She stepped out and up to Pansy. “Next time, let me open the door.” She said, meeting the passive but intrigued dark eyes of the Parkinson girl.

“Gotta hand it to ya Granger. Didn’t think you had it in you.” She replied with a flick of her tongue. She was clearly impressed but trying to not let it show. 

Draco on the other hand had a less graceful exit of the closet as he scrambled to his feet in haste and buttoned his shirt with a wandless wave. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to not let on as he quickly took his seat with the guys, who were concerned he might combust with how flushed his face was. Theo handed him a cup of water and Blaise handed him the flask. He took both.

Water. Firewhiskey. More water.

Don’t forget to breathe.

Just play it cool dummy.

“So…I take it that went well?” Blaise joked as Draco handed the silver canteen back. All Draco could do was nod. They all watched as Hermione went back to the circle of girls and pulled back her cardigan to show off the mark, which of course had them testing if it was real. It passed inspection. 

Whatever people had thought of Hermione before certainly ended that night.  
……………………

Hermione found herself curled up on a sofa in the Gryffindor common room, head pounding the following morning. She licked her lips dryly and felt like she wanted to puke and eat and then puke again for eating. Just as her eyes adjusted to the brightness of morning light she noticed a phial was tied with ribbon in her hand with a note saying “Drink” and felt very much the Wonderlandian character from her childhood literature.

Whoever had brought her here made sure there was no way she would mistake the urgency for which this potion was for. She pulled the stopper and guzzled the satisfyingly cool liquid and waited for its effects. Eventually, the room stopped spinning and the intensity of the colors dulled to the normal spectrum. Crookshanks jumped up onto her legs, which she noticed was covered in a blanket and her sandals were removed. Someone had given her the full tuck-in treatment.

But why was the dorm so quiet? It was morning, right?

As if summoned by sheer mental force, Harry entered the common room with a plate of food. “Oh thank Merlin.” He prayed as he saw her. “I could kill you if I didn’t love you so much.”

She nodded slowly. She appreciated the gesture.

He came around with a glass of pumpkin juice and a plate stacked with flapjacks, eggs and sausage links. Sitting up took more effort than she expected of herself, but she was capable of doing it. The plate was plopped in her lap, silverware to follow as he scooted Crookshanks off and sat beside her.

He sighed. “I know Ron has done it, ok? You’ve had it, you’re ready to cut your losses and move on. I can’t believe half the stuff coming out of him right now; he’s like a totally different person. But then again Mione, right now, so are you.”

What kind of talk was this?

“I’m kinda mad at Ginny too. We’re supposed to be watching out for you—but not like this—and this is just all around uncomfortable.”

“Harry, please. The point.” She begged, motioning for the juice.

He handed it over and waited until she had nearly downed the entire thing before she stopped and coughed. Chugging the PO like that would fight you on the way down, as she was just figuring out when she placed a hand on her chest. A moment later, she finished the cup.

“Hermione. You got pissed last night and had it not been for someone sending a note to Ginny—because she was the only one who knew you even there—and her contacting me to help get you, we’re not sure if they would’ve left you in the ROR or plopped you in the hallway for the professors to find. You’re lucky I have the map and the cloak and the determination of a bull to protect my friends.”

Oh shit.

“Yeah, oh shit.” He nodded angrily. “Big time OH SHIT. Because there were more Slytherins at that party than any other House, and I don’t even want to think what could’ve happened to you.”

What did happen?

“It’s not like I’m up to my neck as it is with this tournament and the usual school crap without this stupid drama tearing my two friends asunder but then you gotta act so fucking foolish for being the brightest witch in this school and get shitfaced with the rival house.”

His tone was angry, hurt, terrified. He must’ve been ready to wage war on her behalf. In fact, he would’ve preferred an all-out brawl rather than to find his best friend intoxicated and vulnerable. And playing with three otter Patronuses that were running amok around the room. Draco had never been happier to see him and came to his side in a rush. 

“Take her and get out of here before she really does something stupid.” He’d said with the most concerned voice Harry had ever heard from him. “She’s wanting to duel and if she keeps this up someone will take her up on that.”

Harry wanted to argue of course, he wanted answers, but clearly, this was neither the time nor the place for them. He’d taken a firm hold on Hermione’s shoulder and broke her concentration, the Patronus trio dissipating into nothing, her glassy eyes and rosy cheeks and disheveled hair—if that was to be believed—all the signs he needed to know what was wrong.

“Get her a Pepper-Up potion first thing.” Theo advised. “She’ll have a hangover from hell otherwise.”

Harry nodded, lifting his wobbly-legged friend to her feet and securing an arm around her waist. He shot Malfoy a look that screamed of ‘this is not over’ before ducking them under his invisibility cloak and out of the ROR. He half carried, half walked her all the way back to their dorm and about died getting her limp body up on the couch without getting clawed by Crookshanks—evil little shit—and tucking her in. He then sat in the high back arm chair and nodded off.

When morning came and everyone else woke up he jumped to his feet and hushed them—Ron included—so they wouldn’t wake her. When he scoffed at the very notion Harry turned on him with all the rage of a father with only three hours of sleep, daring him to be stupid enough to push his luck. After swallowing his pride and shutting his mouth, Ron escaped to the great hall without his buddy in tow.

Everyone else filed out, the girls included. Harry and Ginny went on damage control, informing McGonagall that Hermione had taken ill and secured a Pepper-Up potion in the proper fashion, because Merlin help if he was going to break anymore rules this day. 

“I certainly owe you one Harry.” Hermione replied in a subdued tone. She owed him about ten favors and counting.  
……………………

Draco knew things had taken a turn when Hermione was willing to go into the closet again—which he put an instant stop to—and frankly didn’t care what his other housemates thought of him if it meant not having her putting herself in danger. Out of the lot, he’d put his money on Theo being the only one he could trust to be alone with her and not try anything.

\--How fucking pathetic is that?—

He conjured up a magic note and wrote an urgent message, addressing it to Ginny Weasley once he managed to get Hermione to confess that she was the only one who knew she was there. He’d yell at her later for that, now was not the time. She had her wand out and was showing off by levitating drinks out of people’s hands and spinning the bottle so fast it nearly shot off and hit someone in the head.

He and the guys brought out their cards for a game but she set fire to half of the deck and giggled demurely as if it had been an accident. Theo kept her hydrated with water that she kept trying to configure into more firewhiskey.

“If Jesus can do it, then so can I!” she declared.

The other muggleborns in the room laughed at the comment. It was a muggle joke the others simply did not understand. Still, it was becoming apparent that the tipsy witch was going to end up hurting someone or pissing someone off enough to take on her duel challenge. Even intoxicated, she was performing her spells quite well. In a fit of giggles with the girls, she shouted “Expecto Patronum” and released her adorable silvery apparition in its corporal form.

Then for extra giggles, she chanted the spell twice more.

No one had ever seen three Patronus charms cast consecutively, by the same person, and watched in a mix of jealousy and fascination. Luckily it was enough of a distraction so no one could see how happy he was that Potter himself had come to the rescue. Fuck all the stupid shit that had passed in the three years previous, he was damn glad it had been Scarface. Before Potter could demand answers Draco was already up to him and could’ve hugged him.

“Take her and get out of here before she really does something stupid.” He pleaded. The situation was bigger than their petty indifference. 

They exchanged looks that promised of a conversation to come and Harry had wisely chosen to not even blame him—at least out loud—before grabbing Hermione. He watched, knowing she was in good hands now. Probably the best hands of the whole student body. He knew that the two were close and given all that they’d been through that their bond was undeniably strong, obviously stronger than the one she had shared with that ginger brick. 

\--Take good care of her—

He lay in bed well past the time for breakfast but didn’t care. He groaned with the empty gurgle in his stomach and rolled over. He sent Crabbe and Goyle to fetch him something off the plates in the great hall, hoping they’d remember to not eat it on the way back. Blaise had teased him and called him a roster of names, some new. Theo promised coffee fresh from the kitchen to which Draco could’ve kissed him for if he had the strength to get up.

“Why not take a potion?” Blaise inquired.

“I don’t need a bloody potion when coffee will do the trick. It IS my potion.”

Blaise ran a hand over his short buzzed hair with exasperation. “You sound like a fucking muggle when you say that.”

“Piss off then if you can’t handle my morning bitchiness.”

“Well, I’m not arguing with that accurate self-deprecating description.” Finding this boring, Blaise departed the dark dorm to leave the little prince to brood over having to hand over his princess to a real knight in shining armor.

He and Theo met in the corridor. “Brooding?” Theo asked.

“Like he fucking invented it.” Was his answer before heading off for whatever Slytherin could tolerate his presence so early. Theo rolled his eyes. Slytherins would deny it to the grave, but the lot of them were overly dramatic despite their aloofness and closed-off personas.

“I’ll have you know that your retarded goons got too caught up in stuffing their own faces to remember to fetch anything back for their master. Luckily, I convinced a house elf that you were too ill to come downstairs and received this.”

Theo announced as he handed an upright Draco the steaming mug and a plate filled with sausage and eggs and flapjacks. “Seems I’m not the only one tending to a sick student, if the castle scuttlebutt is to be believed.”

“Oh thank Merlin.”

“Not even had your first sip of the day and singing Potter’s praises? You must be ill.”

“For once, he deserves it. Could you imagine the…” he stopped himself and shook his head. They could imagine it alright. “It’d be one thing if I could’ve walked her back to the dorm myself; made sure she got in safe and sound. But no, all this damn division between the houses.” He growled. “What’s so wrong with inter-house mingling that the professors keep it under lock and key so hard? All these fucking passwords to remember on top of all our homework is ridiculous. All these spells and wards and charms just to make sure we don’t step foot into any god forsaken dorm but our own! For what fucking purpose? We’re only in here to sleep and do our homework, if that!”

Theo let Draco rant, nodding with the very valid points the Slytherin was sprouting to the only other Slytherin that felt the same way. Or at least had the balls to say so. Not that the students weren’t curious about what the other dorms were like, naturally, but to question the point further as Draco was doing was something no one else was willing to voice. He’d notice how Draco had been exemplifying more passion into things as of late, and not just with his grades.

Perhaps the Granger girl was actually doing some good for him after all.

…………………….


	12. Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Potter and Malfoy take to the Quidditch pitch “for practice” and have a most interesting conversation on their brooms. Ron and Hermione face off again with devastating consequences.

Harry was eyeballing Draco so hard he was sure to leave a mark from sheer willpower alone, the way the blond squirmed to not meet his eye over the breakfast table the following morning. It was very unSlytherin of him, not even glancing over once at the Gryffindor table to throw an obscene hand gesture or taunt, which he had not been doing nearly as much recently, not that it had come to Harry’s attention.

Too busy being caught in the drama broiling between his best mates; Harry had lost sight of his former adversary until last night. Now it was as if he’d removed his glasses and could see clearly for the first time this year. Ginny had confided in him, telling him everything that Hermione told her—even the mark on her wrist—in a panic when the enchanted note flew into the girl’s dorm and smacked her in the face until she grabbed it and tore it open.

She’d been so concerned for her bestie’s safety to keep any secrets, though she swore Harry to keep it. Even though the very thought had caused bile to rise up in his throat, he nodded and swore he would not bring it up to Hermione, whom he could tell, was having enough trust issues of her own. He didn’t want to make his way to the ever-growing list of people she was finding lacking in that department.

He’d been livid when he saw the mark on her collarbone once he got her on the couch, and made sure it remained covered so no one else would see it. Malfoy would have some serious explaining to do, even if all he wanted to do was blast him into next week with a well-placed hex. 

In all his rising frustration with Ron, Hermione, the tournament, and now this….this party….

He sighed, startled when a note dropped from an owl in flight and flew with the rest of messaging owls. He wasn’t expecting letters, he didn’t get very many—if at all—unless it was from the Weasley’s and they always coincided with one for Ron. Not this time. He turned it over and unfolded it.

Potter:  
Come to the Quidditch pitch dressed for practice, after classes, broom included.  
I’ll tell you what you want to know.  
-DM

Owlishly, he blinked a few times, rereading the straightforward two sentence missive and wondered if this was just another joke, but quickly banished the thought. No, not with how he was acting last night, he wanted to explain but he couldn’t, not in front of his friends. And it’s not like they could agree to be civil in the library or an empty classroom. At least on the pitch, they could pretend they looking for the snitch in a one-on-one spar and no one would be any wiser to it.

\--Slytherins are clever little snakes. I’ll give them that.—

Until then, school came first.  
…………………

Herbology first thing in the morning was like heaven to Hermione, who had a little dance in her step as she breathed in the earthy smell of the plants and flowers with Neville, who looked like he’d stepped into his own church every time he crossed the threshold of the greenhouse. While books may be her passion, one could never mistake the aura of nature as it greeted her senses so early in the day.

Even before stepping to her seat, she made her way to the table where her own cultivated Fairy Snowdrops were blooming nicely. She’d known gardening in the muggle world; her mother had a fairly modest flower bed that attracted plenty of birds and bees every spring. She wasn’t entirely fond of getting dirt under her fingernails—she didn’t want to soil the pages of the next book she touched—but it was rewarding to see something she’d nurtured grow into something beautiful.

Her finger caressed the slightly drooping snowy white petals as she would with Crookshanks’ ear, causing the little plant to shiver in response. It swayed ever so slightly. Nearby, a flamboyant red blossom with orange streaking much like that of a Daffodil was radiating heat as it made a faint sizzling sound. Curiosity led her finger towards the plant but was held fast by a pale hand grasping hers.

“Don’t. You’ll get burned.” He warned. “That’s Dragon’s Breath.”

She smiled. Of course it would be.

“I think I can handle a little heat.” She smirked, turning ever so slightly to see a faint blush across his face. “But thanks for the warning.”

He cleared his throat and let go of her hand. “What’s that you got?” he asked, in case anyone was eavesdropping.

“Fairy Snowdrop.” The name rolled sweetly off her tongue as if she were whispering the name of an idol.

“Are they your favorite?” he inquired.

She giggled, as if there was a private joke in her head. “No, that would be-”

“Students to your seats, you’ll have time to tend to your plants later!” Pamona Sprout announced. “Granger, Malfoy…seats please.”

They quickly parted and took their seats, ignoring the stares, glares, and inquisitive gazes. There were whispers and giggles until Sprout called for attention again and had them open their book and begin their lesson. Material Hermione covered in her tutoring helped as several students began zipping through their assignment of identifying non-poisonous plants that merely adapted similar attributes. 

“As you progress further into the study of Herbology you’ll see much correlates to potion brewing and some of your future assignments will be a combination of the two, so I suggest you pay attention in Snape’s class as well. One single ingredient can ruin a brew faster than you think, and given that some take a month to mature, like polyjuice, you do not want your efforts to be in vain.”

She continued as they scribbled their answers to their test. “If any of you are in need of supplies for Potions class, feel free to come by or owl to my office in request."  
Hermione and Draco cast a rival at each other, speeding on in their scribing and finishing within a second of each other, arm thrust in the air holding their assignment to Sprout’s surprise. Such as it was, she awarded them each five points, which only fueled their ire that they were now tying each other in the classes they shared. 

“Give it up Granger, you can’t beat me.” He joked, leaning back with his arms behind his head. If he couldn’t take the lead, he’d resort to the teasing.

“Why beat you…when I can bite you instead.” She replied in a hushed tone that would’ve gone unheard if one wasn’t paying attention. At this, several classmates jeered and Blaise playfully punched Draco’s shoulder—where she bit him as he sat on her and squished her on the couch—as Ron turned an angry shade of red and Harry held back the urge to hurl. Draco's ears were bright pink.

“Settle class, leave that kind of talk for the Quidditch pitch.” Their professor chided as she incanted little pots in front of each student for them to tend to the seed within and identify what bloomed in the course of five minutes. Naturally, Hermione and Draco were first of their house to finish the time based assignment, followed quickly by several Hufflepuffs and a Ravenclaw, who all then took to the growing table where their personal plants grew under their care.

Standing beside each other once again, they spoke in the most hushed of whispers.

“I see Potter took care of you.” He started.

She swallowed. “Very much so. I don’t remember-”

“It’s best not to mention it here.” He interrupted. “I’m glad you’re alright.” He focused his full attention on his blooming Dragon’s Breath. “Potter wants a chat.” He inhaled slowly. “I am going to have to give him some answers.”

She stiffened. But she nodded. It wasn’t right to keep this secret from her best friend. She licked her lips in a nervous tick as she fiddled with the dropper held over her project. “Please don’t antagonize him. I can’t risk losing him too.”

Her plea touched him. First she begged for him not to hurt Weasley, and then she asks him not to poke the lion that was Potter. It wasn’t just concern for her friends; it was her trust in him. Her…trusting him.

“Are you asking me…as a friend?” he asked her, watching her out of the corner of his eye. She nodded. He didn’t know why it meant so much for her to acknowledge that, but it warmed his chest greatly. The most powerful of the muggleborn students, his friend? An alliance unlike any other that had ever been. 

How could his father deny she was nothing if she was standing by his side as a friend? As an equal?  
……………………..

Donning his Quidditch gear and holding his Nimbus 2000, Harry slowly walked onto the empty field, save for a single green clad student holding his own black polished broom. There was a training trunk at his feet, open and awaiting for them to select their practice ball. If anyone happened upon this scene, they would just believe what their eyes would see: two rival seekers chasing a snitch and nothing more.

“Potter.” Draco greeted with a little nod.

“Malfoy.” Harry replied stiffly. “You alone?”

The blond rolled his eyes. “Did my note mention to bring friends? I must’ve forgotten to add that.”

“I mean it Malfoy. I’m not playing any games.”

Draco tsked. “Pity potter, you’re such a spoilsport. But I promised Granger I wouldn’t antagonize you, however much I love doing so. To the air then?”

He jumped on his broom and waited, looking down at the dark haired boy. Eventually, Harry released the snitch and after a moment of it buzzing around, hopped on his own broom and took to the sky.

“Gotta make it look real Potter, keep your eye out for it. Once it’s caught, this conversation ends.”

“Fine then. What’s going on between you and Hermione?” he demanded.

Draco laughed. “Always straight to the point with you. No subterfuge.” He flew a circle around Harry just to irritate him. “She and I are friends.”

“As if!” Harry exclaimed. “She can’t tolerate you and your purist beliefs!”

Draco dipped down and then up again. “Ask her yourself.”

“Don’t think I won’t!”

“Time’s wasting Potter, I’ve seen the snitch pass by already.” Draco warned.

Harry squared his shoulders and exhaled. He had to mentally repeat to himself to not get worked up. If he pushed too hard Draco would close off and he’d probably not get this chance again. “Why was she at the party? What happened there?”

The Slytherin nodded. “Asking the real questions now.” He swung his broom over to cut across the Gryffindor as if they were actually combating for the snitch. “She was invited by those in the study session, and came because she wanted a change of scenery. As for the drinking, she did that just to prove she could. Honestly, there were a lot of bets going that she wouldn’t even show, let alone partake in any going-ons, and she blew a gasket once she found out. It was all I could do to keep her from taking it too far; she was ready to throw the gauntlet at the next person who crossed her.”

Harry digested the statement with a bitter pill. She’d been having her back against the wall for weeks now, and she wasn’t backing down. Sooner or later, he knew someone would push her too far, if Ron hadn’t already. Nodding, he indicated for Malfoy to continue.

Draco swept underneath Harry and elbowed him. “Keeping up appearances.” He explained as he shifted back around. “Take a jab at me.”

Harry gave a half-hearted shove. “Keep talking.”

“Jeez Potter, even when given the chance you don’t even take it.” He scoffed.

“How’d this thing even start between you two? She hasn’t said anything! We tell each other everything.”

Draco darted back around and gave his broom a light kick. “Maybe that’s your problem. There are no secrets, so chained at hip there’s no room to breathe. Everyone has their own little thing, right? You think my mates know everything about me? And would you really believe her if she came right out and said ‘oh by the way, just had a lovely chat with Draco and we’ve put the past behind us, hope you don’t mind me heading off to see him’?”

Harry swiveled his neck, the glimpse of gold catching his Seeker’s eye. “Alright fine. So you two had a ‘lovely chat’ and set things right. How’d that even come about? You’ve hated us since day one of school.”

“No, I didn’t hate you.” Draco corrected, stretching his arm out as if to make a grab for the nearby flighty object but retracted at the last second. Harry realized just how good of an act Malfoy was setting up in case they were being watched. “I offered you my hand in friendship, which you snubbed. Fine, I came off a little brash, but I thought that was the way to go. I thought you grew up knowing your fame and needed to be approached as such. Color me surprised when you couldn’t answer a single one of Snape’s questions or realize the intent behind them.”

The intent? Behind what?

“So the Weasel got to you first, his family and mine go way back, bad blood since even before we were born. Nothing to do with you at all Scarface.”

Harry wrinkled his nose at the unpleasant nickname. He came up and shoulder jacked Malfoy, catching him off guard.

“Oh, so you can play dirty after all.” He snickered.

“What changed your mind about Hermione?” he demanded.

“It always circulates back to her, doesn’t it? What’s she to you Potter? Tell me honestly.”

“I asked you first.”

“Yes, and I have the answers you want. You have far more questions than I do. Make it snappy Potter before I end this match.”

“She’s my friend Malfoy; do you not believe boys and girls can be friends?”

A snorty laugh escaped the blond. “Of course I can. Just seeing how protective you are though…makes me wonder.”

Harry stopped short. “Oh my god….you fancy her?” The realization hit him hard in the chest. He grabbed the handle of his broom to keep himself from sliding off. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

“Don’t pass out on me Potter; I’m not hauling you to the infirmary.”

“The marks…” he uttered.

Draco came up close and snapped his fingers in front of Harry’s lost green eyes, reeling him back from his train of thought. Once Harry came to and turned to him he said “It’s for show Potter, making Weasley jealous for everything he’s done to her.”

But Harry could barely fathom it. Why would Hermione stoop so low as to play that dirty against Ron? Did it really hurt her that badly? Was this all really necessary?

He didn’t get to voice his next concern, as an ear piercing scream cut through the air, snapping both their attentions in its direction. From their vantage point, they could see a gathering of students, the circle splitting up as two were left in the middle: a red haired boy and bushy haired brunette.

“Oh Jesus Christ.” Harry muttered. “Not again!”

A bolt from one wand shot at another, and the telltale form of Hermione went down, bolstering both airborne teens into action. Together they steered their broom heads and dove straight to the scene as the onlookers made moves to point their wands at each other and preparing to blast away when Harry pulled his wand and cried “Expelliarmus!” at Ron before landing. 

Harry jumped off his broom and came to Hermione’s crumbled form, her hands over her mouth trying to muffle the scream within with tears running down her cheeks. “Let me see!” Harry cried, pulling her hands away.

Ron let out a roaring laugh as Draco descended. “Have fun snogging with that now!” he cried, pointing at her. Everyone turned to see the terrible sight of her two front teeth exponentially larger than before. And growing. And growing. She couldn’t talk, couldn’t incant…only wail in pain as the teeth pushed against the others. Blood started dripping from her gums.

Draco rushed up on Ron and slugged him in the gut, grabbing his collar and meeting the bright blue eyes of his foe. “Forget owing me a favor, I’m just going to beat the shit out of you.” He said before lifting a knee up and slamming it into his stomach and tossing him to the ground.

“Stop!” Ginny cried, of course wanting to protect her brother, but didn’t try to step in between. She’d seen Ron attack her best friend after another round of their words. In a way, he deserved this. Terrible as it was to even believe.

While down, Draco kicked him. He rolled over, Draco kicked his back. The crowd was stunned. Ron attacked Hermione. Draco was attacking Ron. Hermione was bleeding and screaming in pain. No one knew what to do. 

Hermione grabbed her wand and pointed it at Draco, who felt a cool sensation sweep over him and halt him as he went in for another strike, grabbing Weasley’s collar and rearing back a fist. Another wordless incantation no less. It wasn’t very strong as her concentration was broken by waves of pain, but once he was able to turn around and see her he stopped.

“No more.” Harry said, as if it needed to be spoken. 

Chest heaving and fists clenched, Draco bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. Harry picked her up and set her on his broom and flew off to the castle, heading straight for medical attention. Draco swept a hand over his face, knowing there were plenty of witnesses to his physical beating of the Weasley runt.

“Well then, I’ll leave the lot of you to deal with him.” He gruffly gathered his robe around him and picked up his broom, taking off for the pitch to gather the trunk and put it back in the locker room. A special button was inside the trunk to call for the snitch should in the event of it not being caught that he pressed, and it immediately folded its fluttery wings and dropped to the ground on the spot, making it easier to collect.

Alone in the locker room he tossed the expensive broom aside and hollered at no one in particular. His fists itched to hit something. Anything. Anyone. He slammed locker doors shut and yanked off his gauntlets and shin guards, throwing them across the room, unsatisfied at the hollow thump they made on contact. He wanted to hear bones breaking, blood sputtering from busted lips, the begs to stop.

Nothing he got from his few hits on Weasley.

The little prick couldn’t even take a beating properly.  
…………………


	13. Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione is sent to Madam Pomfrey to have her teeth resized. All she can do is endure the wildfire gossip and looks she gets afterwards. She visits Draco’s detention cell and learns things about him she never knew.

Flying was not her favorite thing. In fact, if one had to ask Hermione Jean Granger the one thing she disliked about Hogwarts her list would’ve included just three things:

Flying  
Divination  
Draco Malfoy

But now, an amendment to the list was in order.

Harry had flown in through a window, and although it was against the rules, in through the hallways as he made his way to the infirmary. It seemed he was a regular there, well, they were in some way. His Quidditch injuries, her being petrified in second year. Madam Pomfrey knew them well. Her job as nurse to a magical school took a strong stomach and an even stronger resolve when students came in with all kinds of maladies and injuries. Seeing enlarged teeth was one of the few things that came her way that managed a second’s worth of surprise before she turned that military precision into action.

“Ah, the Densaugeo curse.” She said to herself with a nod. The woman knew everything—or at least knew enough that she could teach several courses. Hermione was propped upon on the medi-beds and the curtain drawn. Another sharp shrilling shriek escaped her as Pomfrey worked, no doubt reversing the damage. He covered his ears, heart pounding loud but not loud enough. He shut his eyes and all he could see was a blast from Ron’s wand, Hermione falling to the ground, the blood dripping from her torn gums and the tears spilling from her large brown eyes, the betrayal evident. Then he saw Draco, rearing a fist back and ramming it into his best friend’s stomach, kicking him, kicking him again, eyes locked onto his prey. And yet, no one stopped him.

\--They go back he said. A long ways, so even if I wasn’t his friend, they’d still hate each other.—

Harry felt bile rise in his throat and his eyes sting. Why Ron? Why do that? You had every opportunity to ask her out, even hold her hand, and the moment she even looks at another guy you jump down her throat. You pushed her away, straight into the arms of Malfoy, and even through all the bullying he’s done, he never once laid a hand of harm against her.

\--Maybe he really does like her. He just beat up Ron in her defense.—

They both were going to get in trouble for that. Detention. Point deduction. Extra homework. Maybe their trip to Hogsmeade revoked. 

So lost in his spiraling thoughts that he jumped when a hand touched his shoulder. He spun to meet Madam Pomfrey and her warm smile, telling him his friend would be alright now. Sedated with a calming draught, she was resting off the stress brought on by the curse and its removal, but her teeth were back to normal size, tucked in behind her lips as she slept.

“Madam Pomfrey, you’ll be expecting Ronald Weasley in here soon.” He said solemnly. “He did this and then got wailed on for it.” It was the best explanation he could say while sounding neutral. “I should go…find McGonagall…I…”

She nodded and waved him off.  
…………………..

Minerva McGonagall possessed a rare quality, not just in being a witch and an Animagus to boot, but having the simple human virtue of patience. With her usual severe look and dark hair pulled into a tight bun, she was a daunting figure of authority even without being the deputy headmistress of the school.

She sat at her desk in the Transfiguration classroom as Harry quickly rattled on the story, knowing the others should be piling in soon to do the same. He figured they had a moment to argue amongst themselves over what to do, possibly even gaining up on Malfoy for attacking Ron. He didn’t know and he fretted terribly as it hurt him to turn on Ron in this way.

“And you’re certain?” she asked when he concluded.

“Ma’am, we were both in the air, meters away. He was practically right next to me, I would’ve known if it was him. And the way he went off, he was too angry to be faking it.”  
She held her teacup to her mouth, pondered a second before taking a sip and then gently placed it down. “I shall have a word with Professor Snape, as I’m sure he is being told this same story as we speak. If necessary, we will bring forth the use of a Pensieve and wring the truth out. But if there are correlating witnesses attesting to this episode, then we shan’t have a need of it.”

A moment later her tone softened. “I know this isn’t easy Harry.”

He looked down at the floor. His shoulders sagged. 

Seeing how forlorn he looked, the elderly woman suppressed a sad smirk. “Tell me, do you believe in young Malfoy’s declaration of friendship to Miss Granger?”

As Head of Gryffindor, she was the guardian custodian to all students placed in the founder’s house. It was naturally her duty to look out for their well-being and safety, even including affairs of the heart.

“I haven’t confirmed it with Hermione, but after seeing what he did, I’m beginning to think so.” –not to mention last night—

“They remind me of a pair of students I knew a few decades ago.” She released a sigh. “A Slytherin boy and a Gryffindor girl, friends, possibly even more than that…”

He blinked. “Really? What happened?”

Her smile faded. “She married another Gryffindor, they had a son. But that Slytherin boy, there was a light in him when he was with her. He was a better person for a time.”

“Oh.” He slunked down again. “I was hoping it was going to have a happy ending.”

The old woman’s face almost faltered, her eyes shining brightly. “As did we all.” She whispered. Immediately, she straightened back up and finished her tea. “Off with you now, I shall tend to this matter personally.”

Harry gave her a nod and ran out of the room, no doubt heading back to see Hermione’s condition. After a moment of silence a voice spoke.

“You almost cracked Minerva; I didn’t think that was capable.”

“Albus you nosy parker, eavesdropping on my confidential meetings?” she replied coolly, knowing he had been there the whole time.

“Some students find it too daunting to speak with the headmaster himself, even Harry. Considering what just happened. My my, what a year this is becoming.”

She slowly drummed her nails along her desk. If she had been in her feline form, she’d be flicking her tail. “This wedge between the two has become a chasm I do not see a bridge being built over. We may need to have a Resorting Ceremony.”  
…………………….

When Hermione awoke, she found herself alone in the medical wing. Gone was the bright light of day, replaced by the soft illumination of floating candles against the dusk outside of the windows. She wiggled her nose, feeling her lips caress freely over her resized teeth. Her tongue ran along the back of them. Her mouth felt normal.

She sat up, patting her cheek and massaging her jawline. Today had been a doozy, waking up with a hangover and now this medical dentistry. The irony was not lost on her at all. Ron hit her with that spell on purpose with the sole intent to insult her parent’s line of work. She was surprised he even remembered the detail. Guess he wasn’t entirely an idiot.

At that moment, Madam Pomfrey came her way, making her timely rounds. She beamed at the sight of her awaken patient and had her open her mouth for inspection. After an once-over, Pomfrey declared her for discharge. She was a little dismayed no one was by her side when she woke up, but that could be said for the Healer’s major flaw, while she was damn good at her job and had stiff beside manners, she saw no point in hanger-on’s loitering about her medical wing and was quick to boot anyone not broken, bleeding, or dying.

You were either a patient, or you weren’t.

“How do they feel?”

“Normal. Thank you.” She replied as she looked at her reflection. Unbeknownst to the healer, Hermione insisted she continue shrinking down the enlarged incisors until she signaled for her to stop, getting rid of that bucktooth appearance she previously had. Just a tad bit smaller and now she had a pristine smile the daughter of a dentist—or two--could be proud of.

Silver lining.

Her stomach gurgled. She’d been gone a long while without food with this stupid incident. Robbed of more hours of this day she couldn’t get back. Oh well, it’s just about over; let’s just get it over with. She was filled with trepidation upon entering the Great Hall, knowing she was quite late to dinner. Her entrance went mostly unseen until she had come upon her table, her housemates turning and acknowledging her presence with general concern for her condition.

Lavender of course, promptly turned her head away, with Parvati to follow as they were bosom buddies and Parvati was not the smarter of the two Patil sisters. A fact that was often thrown in her face when Slytherins decided to pick on her. It made no impact on Hermione. Some of the guys; Dean and Seamus, commented that she looked better, asked how she felt. Colin was too scared to speak to her after the “Hurricane” incident and hadn’t said a word to her since. Harry and Ginny looked strained, like tired parents sick of their children’s bickering. There was no sign of Ron.

Before she could stop herself, she looked over at the Slytherin table.

“He’s not there either.” Neville replied. “They’re both in detention cells.”

She snapped her head back to the group. “Sorry…I just thought…”

“Yeah we all know what you thought.” Lavender snidely pressed through tight lips. “And because of you we’ve lost 30 points and Ron!”

Hermione’s eyes squinted at the blonde. “Right, because all I’m good for is house points right? Your stupid boyfriend is still hung up on me, are you sure you shouldn’t be directing that anger towards him?” Suddenly the idea of eating with this crowd revolted her.

“Clearly, this thing between the two of you has reached a level of epic proportions and we’re all hurting because of it-as a whole.” Dean stated as if he’d become the spokesman of the group, nervously pushing at the back of his afro. “Your little flirt with danger has been…entertaining, dare I say, but otherwise, you’ve really let us down Hermione.”  
“Hey!” Harry snapped at him.

“I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking, what we’ve all seen.” Dean replied. “We’re supposed to be loyal to each other.”

“Yeah, and what of Ron’s loyalty? Why is no one questioning that?” Harry spat back. “You guys act like she started it. If anything, she’s always been the one on the receiving end, and finishing it. This is my best mate I’m talking about and even I can tell he’s been an arse lately.”

“He didn’t deserve a broken nose.” Lavender pouted.

Ginny rolled her eyes and made a mocking face of Lavender’s pity-me eyes.

\--This is mutiny. They want me gone. Now that I’m no longer “of use” to them. Not raking in the house point lead? What do we need Granger around for then?—

“Harry.” She said stoically. “A word.” She motioned with her chin. She turned on her heel only after grabbing a dinner roll and they met at the end of the table a few meters away. “I need the map. I’ve never been to the detention dungeons before.”

\--of course not, why would I when I’ve always been the good girl?—

To her surprise and relief, he didn’t ask. He nodded and pulled out the folded parchment from his back pocket, as if carrying it around had become second nature to him. Lately, he’d seen some irregularities that he couldn’t make sense of, but hadn’t found a single peaceful moment between this feud to ask either Ron or her to help him with.  
She tucked it into the pocket of her robe and gave him a nod of thanks. With a bite of her hot dinner roll, she set off to find the dungeon detention cells.

With her wand to illuminate the darkness as she delved into the belly of the castle she was wondering just why she was doing this, and for whom?

Do I want to go see Ron and verbally bash him into oblivion? Not that it really matters, how much further could we insult each other?

Do I want to see Draco and see if he’s alright? Apologize for anything my stupid housemates might’ve done or said? Hopefully he won’t fume at me for this somehow being my fault.

She thought back on their morning in Herbology, standing so close she could’ve touched his hand had she wanted…and she did want to. But she knew there was at least half the class if not everybody who was watching them. And so they whispered as they fiddled with their plants. He had shown concern for her. It touched her, knowing that along with Harry and Ginny, there had been someone else interested on her behalf. And when she pleaded to him to not antagonize Harry and he asked if she was merely asking as a friend, her chest pinched tightly. 

Friends? With Draco freaking Malfoy? School bully and muggleborn hater? But now, he was something different. Someone worth being friends with. True, he hadn’t quite outright apologized for the things he’d previous said and done, but she felt that was still coming. He still had that aristocratic pride in him after all.

\--He said he considers me his equal in ability here. That’s a start.—

Finally, the map blipped with two dots sitting side by side. Technically, one was sitting still while the other appeared to be pacing back and forth. Given their tempers, it could be either one of them still working off their rage. And that was hours ago. She approached closer, the one pacing was Malfoy.

\--Color me surprised.—

She folded it up and tucked it into her robe, then brought her feet to the cell hall. The walls were half stone, half bars, so that even the two next to each other couldn’t reach out and grab the other through the bars. Just enough stone to prevent touching, the rest were bars offered zero privacy, if they had been placed facing each other.

The soft glow of her wand gave her presence away, stopping Draco in his tracks and spinning on his heel to face the light source. The shock on his face was genuine as he rushed to the door, mouth agape as if he were seeing an apparition.

“Hermione?” he whispered as she approached. She loved the way her name rolled off his tongue. She nodded. As she came closer she saw bandages wrapping up both his hands, spotted with blood no doubt. Concern washed over her face as she placed a delicate touch to the gauze.

“Draco…what did you do?” she cried softly.

“Shhh.” He motioned. “I think he finally fell asleep. Thank god. I’ve been listening to him bitch for hours. How did you even find your way here? You’re the last person I expected to even know about this place.”

She let out a little laugh. Of course. Everyone with their assumptions. “I have a map. A special map.”

“Ah…so that’s how the bad girl keeps up the good girl act.” He smirked.

“Shut up Malfoy.” She rolled her eyes. “I could heal yo-”

“No, it’s part of my punishment.” He quickly interjected. “I have to let them heal naturally. Bollocks on my part, going at the locker room like I did. Snape served up the point deduction, detention, and my muggle way of handling things with shockingly little emotion. Like he wasn’t even upset or disappointed.”

“What happened after…?” she swallowed, not even able to process the sentence.

“After Sir Harry the Noble whisked you away?” he sniffed. “I left. Grabbed the Quidditch trunk and started destroying the locker room like a mad man.”

“No one came after you?”

“Shocker right? You’d think they would’ve pounced on the one lone Slytherin that they had all personally seen toss one of their own and yet not one touched me.” He still couldn’t believe it. “Guess they felt he had it coming…Wish you hadn’t stopped me. I wanted to make him bleed.”

She cast her head down. “That’s why I stopped you. Because I knew you’d keep going….and as my friend…” she trailed off, her voice choked with emotion.

“Please don’t cry. I won’t be able to hold you properly.”

Not with how the bars were spaced, shaped and enchanted. A hug would only end up hurting them. But the statement brought her head up. “Draco… Why did you do it?”

He rested his forehead against one of the bars, wincing as the edge dug into him a bit. “Because I had the chance to hex the shit out of him and I didn’t. Instead I taunted him and said something I probably shouldn’t, and it got him thinking the worst about you even before you went to the party. And then I acted like a fool again….” 

A moment of silence passed as she waited for him to continue.

“Seeing you bleed…hearing you scream…something snapped. I may have been a pompous arse for three years but I never hurt you like he did. Your friend, your goddamn friend turned on you—in front of your own housemates—and fucking ruined your teeth for laughs.” 

He was seething now, the blood rushing to the surface again, that bloodlust in his eye, wanting revenge.

“I could’ve killed him. I would’ve killed him. Because no one does that to my girl.” He bit his lip so hard he could taste his own blood. “I told him. You’re mine. And he tried to make you unfit…” 

His hands were trembling, fingers white as he gripped the bars. No wonder his bandages were bloody. He’d still been hitting the walls, while in here. Slowly, her hand came up and brushed along his fingers, the contact of her skin to his soothing the berserker rage inside him. Calming the inner dragon.

“Is that why you tried to kiss me?” she asked. “To make me yours?”

After a moment, he nodded.

“I thought…I thought it was just a…you just needed it for the Patronus-”

“It started out that way, yes.”

She shook her head. “No… No because…the peacock. That bloody paper peacock! It was you in the library, wasn’t it?” she whisper shouted at him. 

He looked down at his feet.

“Why? Why run?” she pulled on his hand so he’d look at her. “I would’ve thanked you.”

“No. You would’ve suspected me.” He said flatly. “Because I’ve been a dick every day of school, following some half-arsed belief that I’ve literally seen destroyed in front of my eyes. And yes, maybe I was resentful; maybe for a while I was angry that you could do practically every little thing like you’d been fucking born for it. Parading these halls like a queen. Showing up purebloods left and right. It drove me crazy.”

He was now squeezing her hand. “By the time I realized I wanted your attention, the only way I could get it was insulting you, mocking you, trying to tear you down just so you’d acknowledge me Granger. I-I couldn’t make you my friend…so I made you my enemy.”

Even if she wanted to pull away, she couldn’t. 

“Just say the words Draco.” She coached him. “Just say the bloody words.”

His face was twisted in pain. “I’m sorry. I am so sorry. I bollixed it up and I just hope I’m not too late.”

“I said we were friends. I’ve already forgiven you.”

Standing on her toes, she pressed herself to the bars, just getting the bare minimum of contact of his body on the other side.

“I wish I had known you wanted to be my friend, back then. But I don’t think your father would’ve allowed that to happen anyways.”

“No.” he choked out. “He wouldn’t. He won’t still but I’m trying to make him understand. Muggleborns are just like purebloods, and some of you are even stronger than us. Magic isn’t a gift for the elite. And this bloodline purity is shrinking the genepool with each growing generation. I’ll end up married to a cousin if I don’t somehow find a suitable match when I come of age.”

“Draco…calm down.” She cooed, rubbing his hand with her thumb. “We can talk about this when you get out. I’m sorry though. I had no idea you were under such restraints.”

He snorted. “Ironic isn’t it? All the wealth to buy this damn continent and yet I’m bound by old traditions from eons gone by. The one thing I can’t buy…is my freedom.”

Her heart ached for him. No wonder he had so little to pull from for a happy memory. His life was already set out for him, grand expectations and demands thrust upon him to just follow through with. Here at Hogwarts, he had the freedom to do as he pleased, and he had lashed out against those his father had told him was the enemy. But year after year, he’d seen things differently; things that made him question everything he’d been raised to believe.

“Hey…” she whispered to him when a long pause had swept passed. He acknowledge with a grunt.

“Draco…”

“No.” he said. “Not yet. Please.”

She wanted to cry. “I have to. When will you be out?”

“They’ll let us out for class, but I’ll be here for the night again.”

That was better than being in all day and the night. “Look.” She ordered. He finally brought his head up. She beamed a brilliant smile at him. “They’re fixed, even better than before.” She strained on her toes, tilting her head back so he could see them.

“Beautiful. Although I have a lovely reminder of just what those things are capable of.” He teased. Oh could he just go five minutes without teasing? Probably not. She still flushed. “I wouldn’t have believed it possible. Then again, I think you were trying to prove it to yourself too.”

“Well. I did have fun last night, even if I can’t remember half of it.”

“I’ll fill you in on the details later. You and those beautiful teeth better get back to your dorm before you get in trouble.”

She made an ‘aww’ sound. “Ever so concerned for me? Touching. But I think we need to clarify something. I haven’t agreed to be your girl. Friend yes, but that?”

Now it was his turn to smile. “Oh that’s the fun of it. I don’t even have to ask. The whole school thinks you already are mine.”

Her eyes widened. “What.”

“Might have to do with matching lovebites, which I daresay, is quite the adorable way to start.” 

“Draco Lucius Malfoy, you prat! How could you let that happen?” she smacked the top of his hand.

“Ow, easy on those.”

“You deserve it.” She snapped. “We can’t be dating! This whole thing was a sham!” She pointed her wand at him. “I ought to hex you for that. Jeez, and you talk about manners. Not even going to go about it the normal way and ask a girl out? You wizards…” She rolled her eyes.

“It escalated faster than I anticipated. But hey, it worked right?” he laughed, pleased with the end result. “Got Weasley’s blood boiling over. Now he knows you have better taste.”

She rolled her eyes again. “Oh get over yourself. You’re cute but not that cute.”

“What’s that mean?” he puzzled. –I’m plenty cute!-- 

She shook her head. “Muggle phrase. Figure it out if you’re so smart.” She backed off the bars, the magic they were imbued with causing enough discomfort without their sharp edges, but pulled on the magic of the one making contact with them. 

“Now wait a minute. No kiss for your jailed boyfriend?” he playfully pouted.

With that familiar hair toss he used to find so irritating, she smiled at him. “I’m not having our first kiss in a detention cell with someone who hasn’t asked me properly yet.”

“Oh why not? It’ll go so well with that bad girl reputation you’ve started for yourself.”

“Still not convincing me.” She replied in a singsong voice. She flashed him a smile that made his heart dance.

He hung on the bars. “Oh fine then. Be a little snob about it. I will get that kiss one way or another. I will convince you little lioness.”

“Don’t you ever shut up?” she sighed, still smiling at him.

“Seal my lips shut then.” He dared.

“Tempting. But you’ve been a bad boy…so you do kinda deserve this.”

Fire rushed through his body. She was actually flirting with him! And it just felt so natural! “Oh Granger, you are the temptation.” He swooned, enjoying that blush on her cheek as she processed his compliment. An actual compliment. He’d never said something so nice to her before and realized how foolish it had been of him all this time. That gorgeous smile, just for him. That adorable blush, just for him.

“Goodnight Draco.” She whispered, wiggling her fingers in a little wave as she stepped away from him.

“It will be now. Thank you.” He whispered back, meaning every word.

He watched as she turned around, her black robe almost swallowing her into the miasma of the hallway and kept his eyes on her as the light from her wand faded away, smaller and smaller. All the while he leaned on the door, smiling to himself like an idiot, chest filled with unspeakable warmth and feeling that for the first time, he’d found something worth more than all the gold in his vault.  
………………..

In the darkness, Ron lay on his hard prison style bed in his cold little cell, with nothing but Malfoy to scream his frustration at. For hours they had called each other every name in the book, insulting their bloodlines as far back to the origin, and threated what they’d do to each other the moment they crossed paths in hall. And then Hermione.

Uttering every disgraceful thing he think of, just to burrow under Malfoy’s skin like a tick and suck him dry with every jab he could throw at her, just relishing how Malfoy growled like a caged animal and slammed his fists into the wall with unbridled fury. 

He chuckled to himself, feeling the kicks to his person had been worth it.

A silence swept over them, and he finally felt like he could possibly sleep when he heard her voice. A cold chill ran through his blood, thinking for one second that she might’ve come to see him, to cry and exclaim ‘how could you do that?’ and apologize for ever starting this stupid fight and the marginally slim hope that she’d want to put it all behind them until he heard them converse.

And how their conversation shifted through the subjects, how Draco laughed that none of his mates stood up for him, how Harry had saved the day again, that pathetic pity route with his bloodline and wealth, calling her beautiful, begging her to stay…

It made him nauseous. 

And it was all a joke eh? Look at these lovebites we put on each other so the sake of making Ron jealous. Joke’s on him! Now who’s the fool?

But then they actually started flirting. That sugary sweet tone…he could just imagine that simpering look in her chocolaty eyes. Eyes he used to have smile at him. And him begging for a kiss, calling her little lioness?

It was all he could do to remain silent.

Try to not cough, sniff, groan or even scoot over. The slightest sound and they’d clamp up and he’d send her packing. But he endured. And fumed. 

So she really thinks she can play me like this?

Guess again Granger…

Guess again.  
……………..


	14. Opposites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a talk with McGonagall, Snape pairs up Malfoy and Granger to see if they can brew a special potion together.

“Minerva, I think old age has finally caught up with you.” Professor Severus Snape exclaimed as the elderly woman spoke of a nonsense theory involving two students from their Houses.

The matriarch sniffed. “Dear boy, you will know when old age has caught up with me when I’m in the ground. Still sharp as ever.” She tapped her temple. “And a man as observant of you must have seen the changes, at least in your own student.”

Snape tossed back his shoulder length black hair and scoffed. “House rivalry. Those two have always fought like fairies and dragons.”

She arched a brow. “Really Snape. Are you going to stand there and tell me there’s not even the slightest glimmer of truth to what I’ve said? It’s not like something like this hasn’t happened before.”

“Don’t you dare bring that up.” He lowered his tone, warning her that she was encroaching on forbidden territory.

Unfettered, she continued. “I know what I saw between you two Severus. She was good for you.”

“I said to stop.”

“Are you so against it because of blood status? You know that’s a load of hogwash. And if someone like Draco Malfoy can look past that prejudice then anyone can.”

“It’s not his prejudice that concerns me, but his father’s. Lucius Malfoy will never allow it. He’ll forbid it with the threat of an Unforgiveable, and Draco will be forced to make a decision that will only hurt them in the end.” He crossed his arms, imaging the scene so clearly. “It’s best to not encourage this.”

“When was the last time Draco did his school work? Turned in assignments on time, showed his potential rather than sat back and skated by with minimum effort? When do you ever recall him getting into a bare knuckle fight? The boy is already on the path of his own violation. He needs guidance Severus, or else history will be doomed to repeat.”

He flinched with the bitter memory implied.

“And the Resorting Ceremony? You think that’s the best course of action? Weasley isn’t exactly academic enough for Ravenclaw nor driven like a Hufflepuff, which leaves only Slytherin to take him in. And you know there’s been a longstanding blood feud between the Malfoy’s and Weasley’s for generations. They will literally kill each other if he is resorted.”

“It’s a course of action that must be considered. People’s hearts can change their beliefs. Rare yes, it’s only happened a few times I know of. But be prepared Severus.”

The Potions professor sighed. “At least, can it wait until the holiday? Perhaps a week at home and away from here and her will do the boy the good he needs.”

Minerva McGonagall knew it was a delay tactic, that Severus Snape wasn’t fond of the Weasley’s youngest son, but he made a valid point. Perhaps a week at home to breathe and think would be best for young Ronald to reevaluate his actions toward Miss Granger.  
……………………….

It was quite the task, locating young Malfoy. The inquires made as to his location varied from each source he asked, just further irritating Snape until he sent out a location spell and followed its trail. He was surprised to find him in the boys locker room, demolished in his fury, the boy slumped against the wall with busted knuckles smeared red. For a long moment, there was silence as Snape took in this scene. History flashed before his eyes of a moment like this in his youth, made a fool of by James Potter. He’d done quite the same thing in retaliation, frustration, humiliation. 

“Redecorating?” Snape inquired with his usual flat tone, his emotions carefully masked behind indifference.

Without even looking up Draco replied “Yeah, thought it could use some sprucing as there are no matches this year.”

“Did you have to go about it the muggle way?” the professor sniffed with disdain.

Draco shrugged. “Seemed appropriate.”

“On your feet boy.” He ordered. A subdued Draco pushed himself up and against the wall, sliding up slowly. No comment, no sounds of disrespect, just obedience. Quite unlike Malfoy. Perhaps McGonagall wasn’t so daft after all.

“Assaulted the Weasley boy, damaged school equipment…I’d say that earns you a few nights the detention cell.” He rattled on in controlled fashion, receiving no response from the youth. “Right along with Weasley for his curse on the Granger girl.”

Draco nodded. At least he wasn’t the sole one being punished.  
………………………

Released in the morning to freshen up and eat breakfast, Filch and Snape escorted Ron and Draco to prevent any further bloodshed and made sure they each went their own way to their respected dorms. Nothing was being left to chance with those two. Draco was received like a hero’s welcome with claps and cheers from his fellow Slytherins, who offered to heal his busted knuckles until he explained they were part of his punishment.

He headed to the boy’s loo, ripping off the wrapping as Theo and Blaise swept in close behind.

“Mama mia!” Blaise cried in his native Italian at the sight. “Don’t tell the Weasley’s ugly face is that hard!”

Draco scoffed. “It was the locker room wall. And then later on, my cell.” He answered, wincing as he ran them under cold water.

“She worth it mate?” he asked, crossing his arms. Blaise was pretty fond of his good looks and only sullied himself in the name of Quidditch. All guts and glory and girl’s hearts at the sight of a scuffed player.

“Having my go at that runt with none of them holding me back? Totally worth it.” He smiled with feral glee. “She came to see me at dinner.”

Theo took a towel and patted his friend’s red and raw hands before summoning new wrap and applying it. “So our good girl has a thing for bad boys then?” he mused with an arched eyebrow. 

“Just how I like ‘em.” Blaise joked but the laugh died in his throat with the withering glare Draco shot at him. “You are far too testy in the morning.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Where’s Vincent and Greg? Someone’s gotta carry my bag today, I can barely flex.” He winced as he wiggled his fingers.

A silence passed between Theo and Blaise. Draco darted back and forth with his eyes. “What? They get in trouble too?”

“No mate, they’ve been feeling neglected lately and have decided to blaze on without you.” Theo supplied when Zabini just cleared his throat.

“Fucking twats.” Draco sighed. Just what he needed. 

Ron received scathing looks from most of the Gryffindors as he entered the common room and the boy’s dorm to dress. Harry took one look at him and left the room, his brows furrowed and lips tight. Dean and Seamus just shook their heads and dressed in silence until they were all ready to leave.

Lavender jumped into his arms, squealing “Won-Won!” as she peppered him with kisses, to which he barely responded to until Hermione stepped from the girl’s dorm and then he bit Lavender’s lip and dipped his tongue into her mouth, making quite the show. 

Hermione merely curled her nose and covered her mouth as if she were to throw up as she and Ginny passed the overly snoggy couple. “Well that’s way to ensure I’ll stick to my diet, seeing that disgusting display every morning.” She leaned over with a little chuckle. Ginny nodded, sticking her tongue out with her finger pointing at her open mouth.

“You’re just jealous that Lavender beat ya to the punch.” He laughed.

Hermione stopped.

“Nope, keep going.” Ginny said, tugging her sleeve. “Don’t even respond to that.”

She inhaled and shook her shoulders, tossing her hair back. The she unbuttoned her blouse just enough, with Ginny agape at her brazenness, and revealed the lovebite Draco left on her collarbone. “And you’re just jealous that Draco beat you to this.”

Dead silence settled over the room.

Neville crossed himself.

Dean and Seamus shared a look with each other as if confirming what they thought all along.

Colin adverted his eyes.

Ron grew even redder in the face as Lavender’s jaw slackened, still hanging on him even though his grip on her was loosening with each second. 

Parvati’s hand flew to her mouth as if this was somehow any more offensive than what her best friend was constantly doing on a daily basis. 

Satisfied with her collective responses, she slipped the buttons back in place and spun on her heel, exiting the room with Ginny throwing shade at the entangled couple.   
………………………..

The tension in Potion’s class was thick enough to bounce a bludger off of it. 

It seemed every Gryffindor student was on edge, restless, filled with nervous ticks as they tapped knees, tapped quills, bit quills, rapped their knuckles on their desks and clacked their tongues as they took notes. Hardly going unnoticed by Snape and the other students.

Draco’s hand was killing him, barely able to hold his quill as he wrote, but doing it regardless, however painfully slow he was going about it. He tried ignoring the ache, but every few minutes he’d wince, flinch, flex his hands, wiggle his fingers and rub his knuckles. His temper had run away with him and he had none other than himself to blame for his condition…other than Weasley.

“Alright, enough of notes.” Snape announced, as if the sounds of quills were suddenly the most unbearable sound in the world. Anything to be rid of this overhanging silent drama in the air.

“This year has been quite revealing into the matters of the heart and mind, has it not?” he addressed solemnly, to no one in particular as he strolled over to his personal potion cabinet. “A wizard’s mentality can affect the outcome of a potion just as much as the wrong ingredient.”

He set out a cauldron over a personal candle and set a few bottles out.

“If one has set out to concoct a healing brew and is suddenly struck with ennui or the pain of heartache, do you believe that said wizard’s heart would still be capable of healing?” A silence fell over the students. Snape did not discuss matters of the heart, or any emotion at all, really.

He took in a breath. “Perhaps, then again perhaps not. That healing potion could turn in a cursed elixir. Opposite of its said purpose. Opposites are what bring us together in nature. There is light and darkness, poison and salve. And those elements resonate within each of us.”

He poured two known combative liquids into the cauldron, simultaneously, and with absolute precision, the same amount. Students reared back, expecting a volatile reaction but none came.

“With the correct balance, you will have peace.” He said calmly, almost soothingly. “But, too much of one…” he lifted one of the phials and poured the rest in. The cauldron immediately began smoking, gurgling with an angry hiss and made little popping sounds. “You have chaos. Unrest.”

The brew continued erupting over the side of the little cauldron, spewing forth a sickly looking substance until he waved his wand and cleaned the mess away with flourish. “There is a legend regarding two enemies who came together to brew a potion, a single goal in mind, to end the war between their factions. The resulting solution became a legend, lost in the anoles of time and probably never existed at all. But if I said it could be done, would you take that challenge…Miss Granger?”

She stiffened at being personally addressed.

The entire class stilled.

She blinked several times. “You said it was legend. How could I create such a thing?”

Snape tilted his head ever so slightly. “Dear girl, weren’t you listening?”

Snickers twittered in the background as the professor and student faced off.

“With your enemy. Your opposite.” He continued.

“And why would I want to do that?” she asked.

The professor stood to his full height. He clasped his hands behind his back. “Miss Granger, if there was ever a challenge thrown at you, do you honestly believe your precious little ego could walk away? And let someone else have the satisfaction of discovering it?”

Draco couldn’t see where Snape was going with this line of questioning. This sounded like something he’d say if he wanted to egg her on about a given assignment. But Snape was unconcerned for ruffling feathers.

“Do you know why I call you an insufferable little know-it-all?”

“Because you don’t like Gryffindors.” She snidely retorted, bearing her contempt with a wrinkled nose.

Her housemates nearly started panicking on the spot, whispering and nudging at her to not antagonize their professor and rival house head. She smacked whoever touched her and kept her eyes fixed on Professor Snape, unyielding.

“That relentless drive, the absolute need to prove yourself better than your peers…” the man continued goading as if no one else was there to witness it. “Is that because you’re muggleborn?”

Her eyes squinted. “A better muggleborn than half your purebloods.” She delivered with a hushed infliction, barely contained rage underneath.

“Then pick a pureblood and show me you’re a capable potioneer Granger.” He retorted.

“What’s in it for me?” she crossed her arms.

Eyes went wide. What the hell was going on here? This heated spat between them was unusual but for her to make such demands?

“How many points did McGonagall deduct for Weasley’s behavior?” he asked stoically. Of course he knew. He matched her deduction with his own for good measure.

“30 points.” She flicked a wrist with agitation. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“You’ll earn 25 of it back with this one task.”

Spines straightened immediately. 

Snape giving Granger a chance to catch up all those lost points? Was he drunk?

Hermione cocked her head to the side. “You want me to work with Malfoy.” She said, calling it out loud for everyone to hear. “You Slytherins never just come out and say anything, do you? It’s always a song and dance.”

The class was buzzing with murmurs.

“And if he does work—not saying he will because he hardly ever does—he’ll also earn back those 25, almost like that punishment was nothing. Maybe that’s why you want this so bad. It’s not about the potion, just finding a way to circumvent the point system.”

Jaws dropped.

Gasps were sucked in, blown out.

Someone slipped off their stool.

Snape stood stock still, face impassive except for a twitch in his fingers as he regarded the wit this young girl displayed. This was indeed not the same child of eleven who shot her hand in the air with every question asked, ever so eager to please and be praised. There was a defiant teen in her place with fire in her eyes and snarl to her lip, a right hand dotted with bruises that she refused to have treated.

He cast a quick glance at Malfoy. The once haughty little prince who made the crowd part for him had been undergoing his own metamorphosis by cracking down on his studies and fighting for the rank of top student, his hands wrapped with bandages from the beating he gave to himself. For her.

Perhaps these two were not so different after all.

“You think like a Slytherin.” He stated. “You tell me.”

She tossed a look around at her fellow housemates, who registered both shock at her audacity to backtalk Snape but also were practically frothing over the chance to earn back the point gap.

Disgusting.

She looked over at the other side of the room where the Slytherins sat, staring at her with judgment in their eyes. Except Draco, who had his eyes locked on Snape. Her gaze fell over to his hands, how terribly they must hurt. 

“One condition.” She finally said.

Snape raised a dark eyebrow. A condition? So she was considering it…He nodded, indicating for her to continue with her request.

“Heal his hands.” Draco stiffened and turned to look at her. “I can’t have such an inept partner if I’m to do this.”

‘What are you doing?’ He mouthed to her.

“Hermione, what are you doing?” some Gryffindor asked, it didn’t even matter who, she was locked in a battle of wills with the professor and nothing else mattered.

\--I will prove I am better. They WILL acknowledge me. It’s not even about the points, I’ll create a goddamn masterpiece that will put me in the history books.—

Snape pressed his fingers together, feigning contemplation. A most clever witch indeed. One to not be trifled with. “Agreeable, would you say Malfoy?”

Draco shrugged. “I suppose it’s worth the price.”

“Traitor.” Ron muttered under his breath.  
………………………

“I could wring your neck, you know that? You insufferable little do-gooder!”

Hermione rolled her eyes as she listened to Draco rant. She sat on a stool in the greenhouse of Professor Sprout’s after they had been given access to collect supplies. Class had ended with an eruption of emotion from their classmates who practically flew out of the door to go tell the nearest person they saw what had just transpired. They stayed behind to receive instructions from Snape, given the rest of the week to complete the task before school let out for Easter.

“And Merlin’s balls! Where do you get the nerve to talk to Snape like that? In three and a half years you’ve let him reduce you to tears with him not praising your grades or answers and today you just went….”

She nodded, arms crossed as she let Draco run out of steam. He seemed more pent up than usual and was venting it quite dramatically. It was entertaining to say the least.  
“Of all the things to say-you straight out accused him of manipulating the point board!” he ran a hand through his frosty blond hair and spun in indignation. “What the hell am I even looking for?”

She slid off the stool and came up to him, touching his arm gently. He instantly froze. “A ‘thank you’ would suffice.” She replied softly. He turned to her.

“I thought I was your enemy.” He mocked. 

“And if two enemies can come together and combine opposites in nature to make a potion, then so can we for the sake of shutting our housemates up about lost points.”

“You’re really stuck on that aren’t you?”

A storm brewed behind her coffee colored eyes. Draco sensed it.

“Someone say something?”

She stood firm but he could feel her tense up. Her jaw tightened.

“Hermione.” He said, that tone between a plea and an order.

She turned her head and instead focused on their plants on the growing table. A distraction that didn’t last. Not with him touching her cheek. Not when his hand smoothly caressed her tightened jaw into relaxing and came up under her chin. Against her self-control she was turning to meet his comforting cool gaze.

“It’s always points.” She caved. “High marks and house points. That’s all I’m good for.”

“Bullshit.”

She responded with a little nod. “I don’t care about them anymore. The whole lot of them save Ginny and Harry. I don’t feel connected.”

“Those are probably the best mates anyone could ask for. Even if one is a Weasley.”

The jab brought forth a little bubble of a laugh, with her wiping her nose before the damn broke and suddenly the tears were flowing. Relentlessly. Body shaking sobs that had her grabbing his silky robe and rubbing her face into it as he patted her back, standing there letting her break down and release everything she’d been holding in for weeks.  
He’d seen it at the party, the effort she was barely clinging onto, trying to prove it to herself that she could be more than what others thought of her. With no outlet, no place to turn to among friends, she turned to enemies who had given her a night to cut loose. 

After a long while her sobs finally subsided but they didn’t part, merely rocked in a soothing lullabied rhythm as the calm set in. One arm was wrapped around her waist, his palm warming her back, his other hand pet her hair from the crown of her head down its entire length before starting over again.

“So,” he said after a while. “…you never did tell me what your favorite flowers were.”  
……………………


	15. Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It suddenly dawns on them they already have two main components for their potion; their personal plant project in Herbology class: Draco’s Dragon Breath blossom and Hermione’s Fairy Snowdrop.

In the quiet sanctuary of the greenhouse, Hermione spoke freely, finally getting off her chest all the pent up frustration and secret feelings she’d been harboring against her own housemates. Draco had stood still and quiet, giving her free reign to vent, allowing her to bury her embarrassed pink face into his robe and cry.

She couldn’t hold them back, the tears pushed through, determined to be released. His arms were comforting, wrapped around her. Warm and strong. His cheek rested against the crown of her head as he gently swayed her. He never once shushed her nor placated her with meaningless hollow phrases. He simply understood.

For once, a Slytherin had given her comfort where a fellow Gryffindor would’ve insisted on talking and promising things would get better with their blind optimism.

In this moment, words weren’t needed. Not necessary. Not wanted.

\--Just let me get this out of my system. Let me mourn the death of my Gryffindor allegiance as I come to terms that I am no longer one in my heart of hearts.—

Once the tears dried up and her back stopped hunching with heavy breaths, she inhaled that familiar soothing scent from his robe she’d silently identified as his own personal brand. His chest thumped rhythmically under her ear, a lullaby to her nerves. His fingers softly trailed along her hair in a comforting petting that she did not mind one bit. In fact, ever since that first contact with her stray curl from Yule Ball, she noticed he had only become more bold with touching her hair, as if he couldn’t resist it.

None of her friends had paid it any mind. The most attention it ever received was being pulled up and piled on her head for Yule. Her roommates never braided it, she didn’t adorn it with ribbons or flowers, she didn’t even color streak it for Quidditch games. Just plain long brown hair that seemed unmanageable at best that she simply left alone.

She felt as he nuzzled the crown of her head with the side of his nose. A little tremor zipped through her as she realized he was smelling her hair. At first, she thought it was weird and wanted to pull away until she realized her nose was buried in his robe, inhaling him like he was a bouquet of his own. A smile perked upon her lips, hidden within the folds of fine black fabric. Never in a million years would she ever imagine having a moment like this-with him of all the boys in this school.

“So,” he said after a while. “…you never did tell me what your favorite flowers were.” 

\--Oh that’s right, we were talking about them the other morning while tending to our own—

She rolled her head along his chest and looked at the table where all the Fourth Year project plants were cultivating, reminded of that chat. Suddenly her fists clenched as an idea overtook her.

“Ow, girl, you’ve got to stop digging your claws into me.” He exclaimed with a little chuckle. He straightened his posture and glanced down at her, watching her face as her eyes seemed to take on a focused yet lost look. Her cogwheels were spinning. “Granger?”

“Our plants!” she whispered hotly, jumping to her toes and whipping her head back to meet his steely gaze. “Draco, our project plants! They’re-”

“Opposites in nature…” he finished, hopping along the same train of thought. They disengaged their embrace and rushed over to the table, each taking hold of their blooming flower and giving it a once over and coming to the same conclusion.

“We need a-” she started, her hand moving in the general direction.

He was already grabbing it off the supply shelf, setting the glass dome on the table and putting his bright crimson blossom on the base as she placed her delicate ivory colored bloom beside it. A moment later, he replaced the bell shaped dome and they hunched down, leaning in close to observe how their plants responded to each other.

The Dragon’s Breath was far larger and took up most of the space, the head of its corona a brilliant orange with curled tips. The petals were blood red with fine yellow streaks, matching the stigma within, down the long green stem with yellow tipped leaves. It stirred and flicked its stigma like a tongue as it released another waft of steam from its anther.

Its tiny, drooping companion with the three perinath segment petals reached up like a head, the penducle straightening, facing its larger foe, a tiny frosty mist emitting from the inner perinath segment petals. The long spathe fluttered like a pair of wings, its stem a thin body as it swayed with grace.

The plants regarded each other, leaning their “faces” in the direction and continued emitting their personal temperature driven pollen as if to spite the other. The Dragon daffodil came off as intimidating, flapping its leaves like wings, slapping at the little snowdrop. The tiny white flower danced along with each strike, turning it into more of a caress, leaving a trail of sparkling mist like that of a ballerina’s skirt.

“What are they doing?” she whispered. She had little experience with magical plants. This was all still very new.

“I’m not sure.” He was hunched over, hands braced on his knees so that he was even height with her, their eyes locked on the glass dome. He knew the Dragon’s Breath was temperamental at best, with a tendency to scorch anything that came too close. What it was doing with the Fairy Snowdrop almost seemed…gentle.

At this height, out of the corner of his eye, he could appreciate aspects of her face he would’ve never noticed. She had a light dusting of freckles on her cheeks and what was considered a button nose. Her lashes were not black, but actually a rich brown. When she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear he was aware there were several variants of color in her mane, ranging from soft honey to mahogany. Her focus was solely on the dome, lips parted as she took in the sight with fascination and note-taking observation.

“They’re….dancing?” she breathed out loud, bringing his attention back to the dome. In the moment he had been distracted, the two plants had wrapped their leaves around each other and were moving rhythmically, much like he and her had done moments before.

A realization struck him. “Granger…”

The bottom of the dome started fogging with condensation.

She leaned in even closer, breath caught in her throat.

Steam and icy mist swirled around the lively galanthus and narcissus.

He nudged her with his elbow.

“What?” she asked, still fixated on her current project.

“They’re mimicking us.” He replied, his breath tickling her ear. “Weren’t we just doing this a moment ago?”

She straightened her spine. She blinked several times. Her head turned from him to the dome and back to him again. The dome continued to fog up as the botanical pair seemed to embrace. A thoughtful visage crossed her features as a hand came to her lips, pondering this new information. Her toe tapped in a cadence of if own as he stood back to his height. “Our plants….mimicking behavior…opposites-” she trailed, eyes darting back to the dome.

“Opposites attracting?” he suggested.

She nodded slowly.

“Now isn’t that something…” he smirked.

“There might be something to Snape’s history lesson after all. We need to collect a sample!” she exclaimed, spinning on her heel and going for the cabinet with phials and tubes, grabbing several items. She rushed back to the table, plopping the supplies in front of them.

“Ok what we need-” she began, but stopped when she realized she didn’t have to explain it to him. He wasn’t like Harry or Ron who needed her guidance through nearly assignment. This was Draco Malfoy, her intellectual and magical equal.

He lifted the base and set it on a frame as she pulled out a tube and connected it to the dome to collect the condensation into a phial set underneath. Both teens watched as the tube slowly starting collecting bubbles of condensation. “This is gonna take a while you know.” He said, rubbing his hands on his knees. “And I’m getting a little hungry.”

“This is fascinating! How can you think of food at a time like this?”

“Because it’s time for lunch? Don’t tell me you’re not hungry either.” He sighed. He didn’t get the usual dinner he would’ve last night being put in the cell and scarfed breakfast with how little time he had after Theo took so long to bandage his hands in the loo.

“Oh I get it.” He said after a moment. “You don’t want to eat at the Gryffindor table, do you?”

She sucked in her cheeks.

He rolled his eyes. “Good grief Granger you’re an open book. You’re going to let that git ruin all your meals for you now?”

“No.” she crossed her arms. 

The look gave her was not convinced.

“Well seeing as how I have precious little time on my hands before serving another night in the cell, I’m going to get myself a decent meal. The plants will be fine; they haven’t tried killing each other yet. No doubt I’m sure you’ll keep an eye on them before curfew. So get your bag.”

“Pardon?” she looked up.

“It doesn’t sit well with me that you’re willing to skip meals. And if I have to sling you over my shoulder and carry you to the Great Hall I will.” He pressed on, stepping into her personal space when she didn’t react. “After all, I have you to thank for my hands, so I’m more than capable.” He flipped his hands over to show her how they were good as new.

Her eyebrows arched. “You wouldn’t.”

“Don’t dare me Granger. Remember what happened last time?” he smirked. 

Oh yeah, she remembered THAT part quite clearly.

“Although…I have wondered how much of that good girl persona of yours is an act. I certainly had my expectations bombarded. Maybe…you want me to toss you over my shoulder?” the way he smiled revealed a dimple in his cheek she’d never taken the time to notice.

“Oh no you don’t!” she cried, grabbing her bag and darting her way past the tables. “You think I’m gonna let you have your way all the time?” she shouted over her shoulder as she flew from the greenhouse.

He chuckled to himself, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Oh not at all Granger. I expect you to make me fight for every inch. It’ll just make my victory all the sweeter.”  
……………………..

Plopping her bag down at the Gryffindor table, Hermione quickly pulled out some parchment and a quill and set to scribbling, earning looks from everyone.

“Really. At the table?” Harry reacted with deadpan delivery.

“Just some quick notes for my potion.” She said in that excited tone that told Harry she discovered something. 

“Why am I not surprised you’ve already started on it….it’s only been thirty minutes.”

“How could you have already started on it?” Ginny sighed. “Seriously. I mean I know Snape pushed your buttons but I’d still be trying to figure out how to combine two opposites in nature if this were my assignment.”

Hermione smiled. “Turns out I already had what I needed.”

“Look at that swot go. Can’t even stop showing off for meals now.” Ron’s sneer cut through the pleasant conversation. 

Her smile narrowed into a flat line. The tip of her quill broke.

“Ron just go away.” His little sister sighed. “You’re a real mood killer.”

Harry turned to face Ron. “For the sake of my sanity, could you just not?”

Ron tossed a bread roll from one hand to the other. “Still buying her innocent act?” He scoffed. “She even smells like him.”

If she had sat up any faster she might’ve snapped something. 

Harry pressed a hand up to his eyes. “Why me?”

Lavender pulled on his arm. “Come on Won, don’t mind them. I’ve got a plate of strawberries we can share.” She cooed, leading him away from the trio.

Hermione’s lips were trembling with unspoken words as she shoved her school supplies back into her bag. Despite skipping dinner and the light breakfast she had this morning, she had lost her appetite in an instant. Draco’s words resonated in her ears, realizing she was letting Ron ruin her meals now. But there was no way she could stomach it. She grabbed an apple and tossed it in before marching right out.

Ginny tried to say something but lost the words and shared a helpless glance with Harry. “I just don’t know what to do anymore.” He muttered.

“Me either.”

“They not feed you while you’re down there?” Blaise inquired, scooting his plate away before Draco could grab anything else off it.

The Malfoy eating machine merely grunted in disdain as he gnawed away on a chicken leg. He’d already had two helpings before pilfering off any unfortunate plate in reach.   
Making up for last night’s dinner and what would probably be another night of a meager meal. 

“So, you two spirited off pretty quick to the greenhouse, find anything interesting?” he teased with a bounce of his eyebrows.

“Plenty.” Draco replied, followed by a long drought of his cup.

“Yeah?” 

“And that’s between me and her.”

Zabini groaned. “Aw come on man.”

“Have a little class.” Theo remarked. “Granger is a lady and our dear Draco is treating her as such.” He tossed an emerald gaze at their aforementioned friend. “Aren’t you?”

Draco set his cup down and raised his hands. “I haven’t done anything she hasn’t allowed.”

“Knowing her, that’s probably not much.”

Draco elbowed Blaise, catching him right in the ribs. Ever the flare for the dramatic, Blaise made a deliberate fall off his bench. In the attention grabbing moment his display took, Hermione had slipped from the Great Hall unseen. It wasn’t until the end of lunch when he and the rest of the table started to disperse that he noticed her absence.  
…………………….

Today Professor Moody was taking another unorthodox lesson in Defense Against the Dark Arts. He’d certainly gotten their attention when he used all three Unforgiveable Curses against a spider and declared they wouldn’t be needing their textbook-despite all of Hermione’s attempts to have him resort to using it. She asked tough questions, always referring back to the texts to which he’d dismissively wave his hand and mutter an equivalent to “don’t worry your pretty little head about it” which she took great affront to.

Last year, she absolutely loved Professor Lupin and how he’d been their most competent teacher in the subject so far. He taught them the Patronus, disarming charms, and the Ridikkulus. His lessons were more hands on than his predecessors but even he included curriculum from the books. Moody’s more ‘fly by the seat of your pants’ approach was both discomforting and alarming because she had no way to prepare beforehand.

Then again, no one else knew what to expect either.

Such as another round of dueling each other, out on the Quidditch pitch. There were various obstacle pieces set out, much like one would see for a game of capture the flag, or tag. He selected Harry and Draco to be captains of two teams, but randomly selected students from all different houses to be their teammates. Moody either was unaware or didn’t care for any friendships or factions within, pointing at any given student and directing them to either Harry or Draco’s team.

Ron ended up on Draco’s to both their mutual disdain, eyeballing each other like two dogs ready to rip each other throats out. Hermione was placed with Harry, normally something she would’ve been most pleased by, but she feared what the boys would do to each other. She grabbed Harry’s arm. “They’re going to go straight for each other, you know that.”

Harry stiffly sniffed and shook his head. “That’s on them then. If they can’t work together, it’ll just give us an advantage.”

“Harry I’m serious!” she whispered hoarsely. 

“So am I Mione.” He retorted hotly. “We need to abide by the rules.”

“This is Defense Dodgeball.” Moody began. “You protect your captain, even at the cost of yourself. If you are struck, you’re out until a teammate tags you in by catching a bludger ball. Mind you, they’re flying freely and will also attack.”

Ron squinted at Draco. “There’s no way in hell I’m protecting you.”

Draco stood tall and shot him a snooty look of annoyance. “Wouldn’t expect anything less from a weasel.”

“Why don’t you go hide behind your girlfriend’s skirt like the little ferret you are?”

Draco’s eyes darkened. “At least her skirt is worth hiding behind, unlike your current floozy who doesn’t know how to keep hers on.”

Among the jeers of their team, Ron’s face blotched into a bright red, veins throbbing at the surface. Even from their distance away, Harry and Hermione could see the agitation brewing between them. Blaise was also on their team, trying to insert himself between the two and keep them from physically throttling each other.

“Can’t Moody even see how wrong this is?” she whispered with worry.

Harry knew that once Moody signaled for them to start, that all hell would break loose. However much he felt they should duke it out and put an end to it once and for all, he couldn’t bear to see Hermione be torn up over the two literally trying to kill each other. However she may feel about Ron currently didn’t mean she’d suddenly forgotten their previous years of friendship.

So caught up in the drama across the way, he completely blank spaced on the rules Moody laid out before giving the signal. The two teams broke off to take defensive positions, aiming their wands at the opposing team.

And all hell indeed broke loose.  
………………………………


	16. Dodgeball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wizard’s dodgeball is far more intense, especially when you have teammates that would rather attack each other than the other team. Hermione shows she’s not to be trifled with, in more ways than one.

Draco’s steel grey eyes were locked on the cold blue orbs of his ginger haired foe, placed on his team by Professor Moody. Thank Merlin, Morgana, and Circe that he had at least Blaise, Daphne, and Pansy, he had more rivals on his team that he was quite outnumbered. Several other Gryffindor prats had been added, Dean and Seamus and Lavender while his fellow Slytherins Theo, Crabbe and Goyle were settled with Potter.

He doubted he’d even a chance to throw a blast at Potter-even for the sake of game-he’d have to keep his attention focused on the Weasley dog. Not that he’d relish the chance to throw down with him once again, but not with so many witnesses. He could literally feel Hermione’s eyes on him from across the pitch, knowing she was worried about the very thing that was bound to happen.

\--Damn it, why should it matter if she’s here for this? She knows this feud is just between the two of us and has nothing to do with her.—

\--Then again….it kinda does…--

“Blaise…”

“I got ya mate, you can owe me later.” The Italian nodded, knowing full well the extent of how deep in the loo they were with this team. Blaise took the position as guardian to the captain of their team, sticking close they took behind an obstacle block. Moody released the bludgers and sounded off with a sparking blast from his wand.

Then came the chaos.

An explosion erupted in the middle of the pitch, shot by an unknown opponent, but it was just the jolt everyone needed to take the game seriously and assume an offensive or defensive position and start blasting at each other. The bludgers-eight of them-went spiraling into the air and whipped around students and obstacles alike, whomping the ground and causing people to be aware of dangers from behind as well as in the front.

“Team!” Hermione shouted, taking a stance to protect Harry. “Work together despite your differences!” She pointed her wand at the opposing team that was sending blasts in their direction. One sizzling hot bolt whizzed by her ear with terrifying proximity, singeing some hair and snapping her attention back to the goal at hand and knew it was shot from Ron by the smirk on his face.

She narrowed her eyes. “It’s on.” She gritted through her teeth.

Then to everyone’s disbelief, she went charging straight down the field, hurling protective shields, fire bolts and ground rattling jolts by the feet of her opponents. Not to be outdone, her teammates fell in line.

Theo motioned for his fellow Slytherins to pull up ranks and follow him, telling them who to aim for as he shot at Dean Thomas.

Harry didn’t like having to play the role of king on the chessboard, but he knew if he was hit with a bludger or blasted by a spell, he’d be out and it’d be a win for the other team. He hung back, taking stock of their hesitant unity.

“Is that crazy bint actually charging us?” Pansy declared, aiming her wand at Hermione but her hand was immobilized with a spell from Ron. She glared at him.

“She’s mine.” He grinned ferally, knowing full well Draco could hear him and there wasn’t a damn thing he could about it.

“You should never pull a lioness by the tail mate.” She laughed as she took aim at Crabbe and Goyle. They were too large and slow to dodge and were bombarded back.  
Daphne spun with dancer’s grace, shooting hexes and charms at Theo and Neville with speed and panache, causing them to duck, dodge and weave from her barrage of missiles.

Bludgers pounded the ground, tearing the Quidditch grounds like grenades and land mines. No one was safe. Ginny jumped when one slammed into the ground by her feet.  
“Just aim for Potter.” Draco ordered, hitting Luna with a disarming charm. She looked around in her usual dazed fashion, as if the explosive atmosphere was nothing more than springtime raindrops as she bent down to retrieve her wand, even dusting off her skirt.

A bludger hurled itself towards Draco, who narrowly escaped a concussion due to Blaise’s quick shield. “Is he trying to kill us?”

Professor Moody seemed all too entertained as well as delivering drill sergeant like orders that in a real fight they needed to be aware of all their surroundings, there would be no mercy.

A shot opened a hole in the ground in front of Hermione as she ran, leaping into the air over it and tucking into a roll as she landed, jutting three consecutive spells in rapid fire, nicking Blaise, and coming awfully close to striking Ron. He jumped up to avoid one vine snatching at him, incinerating it instantly as he returned with a repelling spell, pushing her back and slamming her into an obstacle block.

A grunt escaped her but she couldn’t waste a second, not with his wand trained on her. If he wasn’t going to take a cheap shot at Malfoy then he was going to take her down. Exactly what she wanted. That’s right, focus on me Weasley, come and get me. She dodge the Incarcerous and returned fire with an Oppugno, releasing a flock of birds to peck and distract him as she jumped over the obstacle piece and continued firing at Daphne and Pansy, who took a back-to-back stance, twirling in circles, shooting Confringo one after the other.

A Bludger side swiped at Seamus, knocking the wind out of him, dropping him to the ground on the spot. Another swept the legs out from under Neville and nearly plummeted into his chest had Harry not charged over and grabbed it mid-air, effectively “catching” it and keeping Neville in the game. He threw it back towards the opposite team but it went off on its own trajectory. “Look out!” he cried out as it swooped right above Theo who had the presence of mind to just duck and not ask questions, avoiding the hit.

Taking advantage of Ron’s temporary occupation with the birds, Hermione ran in a zig-zag formation, barely missing the fire bolts as she summoned a jet of water to hose the two girls and took cover once more. These wizards had no idea of the endless games of tag back in her muggle neighborhood and the lengths she went to be the last girl standing. Her hair was a wild blaze that could barely keep up with her as she moved, shucking off her robe only to send it flying towards Blaise, momentarily wrapping him up like a mummy and dropping him to the ground.

Draco whipped around, faced with her for a split second. She looked like a warrior princess, feral and every bit deserving of the spirit of the lion. After one second of hesitation from the both of them, they aimed their wands and shot at each other, effectively dodging but still calling it close. He ducked as another spell flew overhead; realizing Hermione was using her positon on the opposing side as means of a distraction for him so he could be taken out.

“Clever girl.” He smiled, taking cover. The bludgers were still a threat to everyone on the field and pounded the ground fiercely. One even rolled itself like a bowling ball, taking out Luna, Millicent, and Tracey in one flow. Ginny caught the bludger and pulled Luna back onto the field.

Once freed of the birds Ron spun around to find Hermione on his team’s side of the court and blasted a vine wrap at her. She jumped but one leg was caught, swinging her up high, causing her to scream in her fear of heights. Draco lashed the vine with Diffindo before it raised her any higher, glaring at Ron with contempt that Ron met with his own.  
“Helping the enemy now?” he shouted. It was just the moment of distraction needed for the opposing team to land a blow on him and knock him off a ways.

Harry felt bad for the cheap shot, but Ron was wide open and he took it. It was just a game after all. It surprised him how well Theo was a team player and didn’t argue semantics in the thick of it like others were doing. Crabbe and Goyle thought it’d be funny to take pot shots at him, while Blaise had been fighting off pot shots from a few other members on his team aiming for Draco’s back. He shook his head, this was crazy. But Moody was right; in real war…people switched sides. 

Parvati and Lavender had made little use of themselves, flinching every time a bludger flew by and clung to obstacle blocks with the sniper approach to their opponents. Neither were very good at it. 

Exhaustion was starting to set in, everyone had a bruise from a bludger or a stinging spot from the lingering zap of a hex, but neither captain had been taken out. The mistakes were evident now from teammates moving slow or not taking cover fast enough. This game needed to end.

Harry saw Ron get back onto his feet and aim at Hermione once more, who was facing off against Daphne unawares. He released his Patronus with a brilliant flash, the stag galloping freely along the field, heading her way. But not fast enough. Hermione was suddenly whipped into the air and swung left and right to Ron’s delightful manipulations before being slammed on the ground with a bone jarring thud.

“Hey!” Draco raged, trying to get at him if not for Blaise holding him back.

“You’ve already got detention, don’t make it worse!” he shouted as Draco fiercely fought his friend. Hermione looked to be in pain, rolling to her knees, clutching her middle.

The Patronus was still darting its way around obstacles and students, on its way.

Hermione sat up, undid her necktie and with a wordless incantation, sent it zipping through the air right at Ron. It slithered through the air like a serpent with deadly accuracy. The necktie quickly wrapped itself around one wrist, then brought up his other and locked around it, then coiled around his wand and forced it to point at his chest. He fell to his back, his wand held by his own hand as if to impale himself. A blood curdling cry escaped his little sisters’ lips as she bolted upright and ran towards him.

Harry was running, despite knowing his Patronus was already there. He was putting his personal safety and positon as captain on the line for the concern of his friend. He wasn’t sure which one of them needed him more but he realized too late as Pansy stood up and aimed her wand him. He’d left himself wide open. But he was not defenseless. He raised his wand and used Immobulus, freezing her in her tracks. Blaise let go of Draco by spinning him in the direction of Potter and effectively snapping him out of his momentary concern for Hermione. 

The two boy’s eye met and a moment of understanding passed between them.

End the game.

Draco pulled up his wand and fired.

Harry took the hit, dropping to his knees instantly but breathing just fine.

The same couldn’t be said for other students, some with concussions, burns, and legs jinxed to jelly.

Harry retracted his Patronus and nodded at Draco, conceding the victory as well as telling him it was alright to go check on her.

Moody was delighted with the results, his entire class looked as if they’d been in a true battle. He whipped his wand and collected the bludgers into the trunk as McGonagall and several other professors were darting and even apparating onto the scene. For how could they NOT have heard the ruckus?

Draco had pushed past Blaise and raced over to Hermione’s collapsed form, brushing her hair aside from her face as he collected her in his arms. She was unresponsive to his calls, blood on her forehead, eyes wide open but glazed over. “Professor!” he screamed, not caring which one came to his aid.

It was Snape though, who heard the Malfoy boy and the panicked tone in which he called for someone that brought him to his side, seeing a scene which made his blood run cold, as if it were pulled straight from his own pensieve. A terrified young man cradling the unconscious form of the girl he cared for-there was no denying it now-and how it mirrored a tragic scene fifteen years ago as he held onto the lifeless body of his love, her infant son wailing in the distance.

The same son that was now on his feet and running past friend and foe alike to see if his besties were intact. They’d been ruthless with each other, giving no quarter and using spells with full intent to best the other. Ron was still on his back, eyes wide open in shock and gasping for breath as the wand dug into his skin. He was struggling. Ginny was shell-shocked with the sight, her hands shaking as they hovered over this tied hands. Harry tried untying the necktie to no avail; it was still wound tight, turning his hands red. He looked over at where Snape and Draco were in a heated conversation over Hermione’s unconscious form, her bloodied head resting against his chest.

It wasn’t until Dumbledore approached him that he felt a wash of relief.

“I-I can’t undo it…it’s stuck or something.” He struggled to say, watching as his friend struggled.

The elderly wizard knelt upon the shredded grass and placed his hand to Ron’s forehead. “What spell was cast?” he asked Harry.

“I don’t know! She didn’t say anything! She just took it off and sent it at him!” Harry cried, in shock of it. They were only Fourth Years’, they weren’t being taught wordless and wandless magic yet.

“Snape, the girl?” the headmaster called.

“Unconscious. Seems as if she’s still focused, but unresponsive.” The Potion’s master responded.

Ron was turning red in more ways than one. His face was almost purple, tears pouring from his eyes and his breathing shallow as his own wand ground itself into his chest. In opposition Ginny’s face had lost its pallor. 

“Snape…we need to open her mind and release this spell.”

“You mean, Legilimens?” Draco asked, laying her gently on the ground as one would a sleeping child. Professor Snape nodded. The cloudy look to her honey-brown eyes gave them all cause to worry. She was technically unconscious, but had shielded herself just before passing out so she had locked herself mentally in the moment, still controlling her spell on Ron but unable to stop it.

“Hurry Severus, the boy isn’t looking too good.” There was worry in the old wizard’s voice, and the counter spell he was trying was only slowing the effect but not by much.

Snape inhaled and closed his eyes, laying a hand to Hermione’s bloody temple as he mentally prepared for himself, trying to clear his mind of any influences before incanting the spell and feeling himself push through a foggy wall that must be the shield she had erected.

Chaos. ….Everything exploding…wands aimed…something whizzed by…Ron’s sneer…

“It’s on.” …. Running headlong…blasts here, there….

They can’t catch me, I play this every summer!

Dodging…jumping… fire….vines…birds….water….

Wrapping Blaise up the robe…now he can’t see…

Locking eyes with Draco. I don’t want to hurt him.

The vine grabbing her foot. Draco cuts the vine….

Harry’s Patronus, I see it…It’s so beautiful, just like Draco’s was that day….

Flying upward, tossing left, tossing right, slamming down…

Ugggghh, my head…I need…he needs to stop….

“Tie him. Bind him. Make Ron stop.”

….I…can’t keep up….I need…protection….

Her thoughts of the battle played itself in Snape’s mind, him experiencing it vicariously through her point of view, the actions she took. Her last thought was to protect herself, to throw up a shield.

“Hermione…the fight is over now…release your shield.” He called to her.

Her prone form lay in her mind, just as she was physically, except in her mind, there was a shield of light around her. If she couldn’t get up, then she’d make sure she couldn’t be attacked. At the voice of her professor, she turned her head towards it.

“Professor? I already had your class.” She replied in a confused voice.

“Miss Granger, the fight Moody set up is over now; you need to drop your shield. Now.” He insisted. “You’re hurting someone.”

She gasped. “No…I’m protecting myself!”

“Hermione Granger! Come to, now! Release the shield!” he ordered.

She shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t.”

Snape knew he needed something to snap her out of this.

“Draco Malfoy is worried. Come, you need to show him you’re alright.”

Her eyes widened. “Draco?” she sounded scared, worried, and hopeful.

He nodded. “He’s here. You can take your shield down.”

“Ok, ok.” She acquiesced with tears streaming. “My head hurts…so bad….”

She closed her eyes and the soft glow disappeared.

Snape opened his eyes, the clouded look of the prone student had returned to normal, her eyes bright once more before shutting them. Although, she was still unconscious and bleeding from a forehead wound.

Dumbledore could feel the bind on Weasley loosen and give way. To Ginny’s delight Ron expelled a sharp breath, the color returning to normal in his blotchy face. His hair was matted with sweat as he felt the weight lift off his chest, his wand collapsing as the necktie unwound itself. Harry collected it.

McGonagall breathed a sigh of relief. Though she was far from happy. “Everyone, to the infirmary! Have yourself checked by Madame Pomfrey then go to your common rooms if you get cleared.” She ordered to the students, who one by one started picking themselves up off the dirt.

Blaise Zabini approached Harry, handing over Hermione’s robe to him. “I’ve never seen someone be so resourceful in a fight. Gotta hand it to that girl, she is full of surprises.” Harry nodded, accepting the robe, seeing as he had her necktie wrapped firmly around his knuckles as Ron was being helped to his feet.

“Kinda makes me want to find my own swotty little bird and see if they’re all like that in the field.” He joked. Harry merely shot him an exasperated look. They turned to see Snape levitate the unconscious form of Hermione and come their way. She and Seamus were out cold, Neville and Pansy cradled their aching craniums but were able to walk on their own, almost falling into each other.

Harry wanted to say something to Draco, although he wasn’t sure exactly what, but with a look on the blond’s face, he knew now wasn’t the time. He kept in tandem with the Slytherin head of house as they made their way to the infirmary. He felt a jab and turned to see Theo with his elbow at his ribs. “You make a decent captain, but if anyone was a leader, it’d be her.”  
………………….


	17. Concerns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione finds herself in the infirmary for the second time in two days, only this time with a concerned Professor Snape asking some tough questions. Draco confides in Harry of things his father has done to endanger him, and warns he’s at it again.

Madam Poppy Pomfrey was just as livid as Professor McGonagall at the sight of so many children in their various conditions, filling up every bed and then some. She called for Dittany and other classic potions that took care of the majority of her patients, clearing the room of all but a few.

Seamus’s concussion was of non-magical means, and he would need to stay for observation, to which Dean offered to keep vigil so she could focus on Ron’s wand burn.

“Highly unusual.” She uttered to herself. Most people didn’t get close enough to each other with their wands to leave contact burns. Duels were fought at a distance and wands were treated more like magical canons than guns, but it wasn’t unheard of for an ambush that left them open to such proximity. A little chant and burn salve took most of the brunt, but it still would need to heal on its own. He left as soon as she patched him up.

Having been ushered off to the side, Harry and Draco were against the wall, watching intently as Pomfrey darted back and forth from patient to patient. Harry slouched and had his arms crossed, Draco was still, fists at his side.

“Hey, good game.” Harry whispered. He merely got a grunt in response.

A little breath of silence passed over them before he tried again. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

“What makes you Gryffindors so blindly optimistic on things you know nothing about?”

Harry mused that over, watching as Snape spoke with the Healer over Hermione’s bedside. “It’s called having faith. Hope. I guess it comes to some more naturally, though in all honesty, living with the Dursley’s seemed like a hell that would never end until I got my acceptance letter. I guess being here has taught me that anything is possible.”

“Dursley?” Draco echoed. “Relatives?”

Harry nodded. “My mother’s sisters family. Muggles.” He answered. “Never had a nice thing to say about her or my father, but deep down I knew better. Coming here proved it. I’ve learned more about my parents in the last three years than in my entire life.”

“Is there a point to this Potter?”

“There doesn’t always to be a point.” Harry replied. “I just figured…you needed something else to focus on, even if it’s only a moment.”

Draco blinked a few times. After taking in a deep breath and letting it go, his shoulders slumped. “You can be so irritating, for the right reasons.”

Harry chuckled. “If Hermione can look past all the bad blood and call you her friend, then so can I. Ron…well, that’s something else entirely. I’m not even gonna suggest it-”

“Good. It’ll never happen.”

“But maybe there’s still time for us?”

Draco’s nose curled up. “Good grief Potter, you sound like a lovesick twit.” But he couldn’t contain the little smile pulling at his lip and the barely restrained whistle of air through his nose as he held back on the laugh building in his throat. 

“Just admit it Malfoy, we can be friends. Or at least be rivals not trying to kill each and can have civil conversations.”

The blond cocked his head to the side in thought. “Don’t expect an invitation to tea anytime soon.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” The dark hair boy chuckled in response.

The tension between them ebbed significantly. Still concerned for Hermione, they remained stock still or else they’d bring the attention of the school nurse and she’d shoo them away in a heartbeat. So they remained silent, observant. They shifted their stance, crossed legs, popped their backs, and cracked their knuckles a little over the time. The silence was making them restless.

“So…” Draco abruptly started, “How’s Dobby?”

It took Harry nearly a full minute, but it finally dawned on him that the little house elf he freed his second year that once belonged to Lucius Malfoy would also have served Draco at some point. “Oh he’s fine, wonderful actually. Happiest freed elf I’ve ever seen. All the others don’t share the same optimism despite Hermione’s efforts to see them gainfully employed and wearing actual clothing.”

Draco solemnly nodded. “Would you…the next time you see him…You can tell him I wish him well.” He hurried along with his awkwardly stated request.

“He hangs around. He gave me the gillyweed needed for my second trial.” Harry ran a hand through his feathery hair. “I was honestly clueless. I had spent weeks trying to find a spell or a charm, Hermione was brewing potions left and right, we couldn’t find anything that would’ve made me last that long. And then he pops up, with the answer, right when it was down to the wire.” He breathed out a laugh. “He feels indebted to me for freeing him, like I really need him acting as my servant…”

Asking his next question, his voice was quiet and low. “How do you feel about this feud between them?” Draco’s arms were crossed over his chest, securing himself in an almost self-assuring hug.

Harry expelled a sigh. “I hate it.” He confessed flatly. “I’m torn between loyalties. I don’t even know what started it and I have no way to stop it. She hasn’t deserved the things he’s said and done, but obviously something happened that I must’ve not caught onto. With the tournament and all…it’s a wonder I remember my schedule.”

Mustering up a weary strain of courage, Draco turned to face his dark haired rival of three years. “Our families have never got on. The Weasley’s and mine. And naturally, when something has both our attention…well, that’s when things really get nasty. Rather than facing me about it—like any true wizard should—he’s been targeting her.” Then a dark cloud passed over his eyes. “Fuck…. I’ve been doing the same bloody thing haven’t I? All these years, because she was with the two of you…” He spun away, disgusted with himself as Harry was left to piece together what it was Malfoy had left half-said.

But before he could string together a coherent theory, Draco turned back around. “I never went as far as he did though. These attacks, it’s ungentlemanly at best and cowardly as well. You and that protective streak you’re known for, you need to watch over her.”

“I have been. Kinda hard when she’s been running off to a pond to meet with a certain Slytherin.” Harry shot back with a warning look in his bright green eyes. “I’m not sure how courting goes in the wizarding world but there is one muggle tradition I am taking upon myself to see through, and that is the role of protective big brother. You hurt her in any way, and I will come for you. I will unlock that dark side they say lies within every man and unleash him, and I may not be able to stop myself.”

The threat, while serious and real, only brought a smile to Draco’s face. “I would expect nothing less. I relish the thought of a proper duel with you, but not at her expense. No, I am not that heartless.”

“I gotta say, you’ve had me wondering if I’m talking to someone who’s drank polyjuice and is only masquerading as you for this year, you’re so bloody different it’s giving me whiplash.”

Draco turned his attention to the infirmary, watching as Dumbledore approached the bed where Hermione lay, with Snape standing by her side, speaking in hushed tones with the man.

“I learned some things over the summer last year.” Draco said, his voice hesitant. “Things I wasn’t supposed to know about. And it has thrown a lot of perspective out the window.” He quickly faced Harry. “You must realize you’re in danger again, right? There’s no way in hell your name was accidentally added to the goblet.”

Harry nodded. This he didn’t even need Hermione to tell him. He knew some shit was going down and he was a pawn to it.

“This is worse than second year. Because this time, I don’t know what he’s planning. But he’s been speaking with Death Eaters, he’s had people coming and going from the Manor…”

“How do you…Your father?”

Draco nodded. “Mum keeps me appraised. Every box of sweets she sends me contains a message she doesn’t let my father know about. It’s the only way. And I wish I could be more helpful, because I’d rather not have to worry if there’s something lurking in the hallways that could kill anyone I remotely care about.”

“Wait, wait.” Harry put his hands up. “Back this up. What do you mean about second year? That you knew about the basilisk? That your father was behind it?”

Draco shushed as his voiced carried a little louder. Then he motioned for Harry to come with him, stepping into the hall. Finding no one around, he waved his wand over the two with a silencing charm, creating a little bubble for them to speak freely.

“Malfoy…” Harry said, suspicious of this but going along with it.

“Harry for once, listen.” Using his first name, he certainly got his attention. “My father is a loyal Death Eater and a supremacist to his core. He ground it into me that half-bloods and muggleborns were lesser just by merely existing. That for every Squib born to pureblood families the reason must be due to a muggleborn having stolen their power somehow. I don’t know how but that was his logic. I came here thinking I had been granted my power merely due to being pureblood and of being one of the sacred twenty-eight and that there was no one who could challenge me. Obviously, I found that was quite the opposite.”

“Now yes, I was resentful and angry and fueled by the belief, believing my father had been right all along. But each year just kept forcing my eyes to see the things that wore those down. Not to mention, my father releasing the basilisk and risking getting half the school killed. I tore a page from a book about them when we were in Diagon Alley and snuck it into her robe later on. If anyone could’ve figured it out, it was her.”

Harry mutely nodded.

Draco shook his head. “I’m tired of my father’s scheming. The sacrifices he’s willing to make. The way he looks at me…” he choked a little before steeling his nerve. “Fuck it all Potter, I know he’d never accept Granger if I introduced her. I just…want to believe he would…how could he deny her if she’s so proficient with every spell and potion? But you’re his target. You always have been. He thinks you’re the key to it…whatever he has planned.”

“Jesus Malfoy….”

“He’s talked about it…having me become one, a Death Eater. Perhaps next year or sixth, I don’t know. And I don’t want to. But there is no way I can say no to him. And I’ve had all this weighing on me since school started, and with every letter from Mum. And we’re just three months shy of the third trial, which is probably a good a time as any to put their plan into action. You’ve got to help me with this.”

However good Harry believed an actor Draco to be, he wasn’t sure if even he could fake the fear in those grey eyes, cause the beads of sweat across that pale forward, and have that quiver in his voice.

“Alright, I believe you. And the reason I believe you is because of her.” He swallowed hard. “I trust her judgement better than most and it hasn’t failed me yet. However you went about it—that’s not my concern—but you earned her trust, and that’s good enough for me. But if we’re going to work together, you need to trust me too. And I’m gonna need evidence to bring to Dumbledore to prove there’s some plot, something going on as you claim.”

“I’ll be going home for the holiday. Hopefully I can scrounge up something and bring it back.”

“Malfoy, don’t mess with me on this.” He warned. “Because I should point out that if anything happens to me, then you’ll have HER on your tail, and you saw how she was today.”  
How could anyone forget how Hurricane Hermione blasted through the Quidditch pitch with determination and ferocity in her eye?

“I’m fully aware.” The blond agreed. “I wouldn’t want her coming at me like that.”

Harry nodded. “Good.” He stuck out his hand.

Draco inhaled, set his jaw, and then clasped the hand offered.  
………………………..

Hermione woke with a start, for a moment her mind was still locked on the battlefield. Her wand may not be in her hand but she still raised her arm anyways, ready to cast when she took in her surroundings. Beds and curtains. The infirmary. The faces and forms of concerned professors standing at her bedside. Suddenly Madam Pomfrey was up close, pulling back the skin of her eyelids and checking her pupils with the lighted tip of her wand.

With a nod, she trotted off to tend to her other patient as the darkly clad form of Professor Snape approached. Dumbledore and McGonagall were in the distance but still close.  
“Professor…” she croaked. She wearily sat up and accepted the cup from his hand, relishing in the sensation of cold water as it slipped down her throat. She smacked her lips and released a satisfied ‘aaahh’ like the soda commercials on the telly. “What happened this time?” she asked.

He brought his hands together and peered down at her. “What do you last remember?”

She brought a hand to her forehead. “Quidditch pitch…dodgeball…explosions…”

Snape nodded.

Her brow wrinkled as she felt the bandage. She felt around more, wincing when she reached a tender spot. “Hitting the ground…” A moment later her eyes widened. “My last spell! I aimed it him, it took his wrists…Is he ok?”

“Weasley does have a wand burn but is otherwise fine. Although you suffered a concussion, you had the capacity to mentally shield yourself. In doing so, you kept him and yourself in stasis, unable to free yourselves. I had to use Legilimens to enter your mind and convince you to lower your shield.”

She didn’t say a word.

“I would like to offer an apology on that behalf, but it was the only way. Now that you have shown a proficiency for advanced magic, I do believe it is my duty to tutor you in such lessons.”

“You told me…Draco was worried about me…” she stated.

Snape nodded. “He was—is—and” he leaned his form to glance down the room to where he last saw the boys. “Was here a moment ago with Potter…” He turned back to his student. “They’ll be back shortly.” He assured her.

“I was in the library.” She stated. “I was looking for new reading material for my off days, when I came across it. I didn’t think I’d actually start doing it…”

McGonagall and Dumbledore approached her bed.

“It just seemed like a subject to brush on, nothing more. Not like I was actively trying to learn advanced magic, but I must’ve really taken to it. Things have been moving with a thought now. I didn’t know what to think. And especially when I’m angry.”

“Wand and wordless magic are tied into your emotions my dear. Anger is one of the strongest to fuel it. I’ve also had it relayed that you have cast up to three Patronus charms at a time?” the Headmaster inquired.

She nodded. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, not that I can decipher. As it stands though, now that you’ve tapped into this new level of magic you must be trained to use to control it. What you cast in your game of dodgeball was effective, immensely strong, and unchecked; you could’ve seriously injured the Weasley boy. Among others.”

She nervously tucked a hair behind her ear. “I understand.”

It was then that Draco and Harry entered the room again, being flagged down by a wave from their headmaster. They quickened their pace but stopped short as they were not expecting to see their heads of house still hovering over her. The look McGonagall shot to Snape was curious to the teenagers, who were unaware of any conversations the two might’ve had.

“I never thought I’d see the day when both Malfoy and Potter shared concern for the same person, and not try to kill each other in the process.” She said with her usual smirk. She and Snape then left the enclosed area so the boys could visit Hermione.

“Remember Malfoy, you have detention at dinner again. Don’t be late.” The Potions professor instructed before the trio left the room entirely.

They both popped their heads in from the side of the curtain, peaking in a comedic fashion. Hermione was sitting up, bloody bandage wrapped around her forehead, her eyes focusing on something else entirely until she turned and caught them. A demure smile splayed across her face, pleased to see them but not pleased with the condition in which they saw her.

“One at a time or both?” Harry asked her.

She glanced at him curiously. “Oh? You’re playing nicely now?” she teased, motioning for both of them. Harry came right up to her while Draco hung back at the foot of the bed.

“Who won?” she asked.

“I did.” Draco answered in a low voice. He didn’t like the victory as much as his teammates did. “You shouldn’t have crossed into our territory.” He growled, grasping onto the bedframe. “It was bloody stupid, charging in like that, making a damn target of yourself. You made sure you had Weasley’s attention, didn’t you?”

“Hey, cool it!” Harry ordered, not understanding why Draco was so worked up. “At least Ron didn’t take a shot at you, because that’s exactly what we figured he would’ve done.”  
Draco shook his head, not satisfied by that.

“You’re welcome.” Hermione snidely threw at him. “Not like you know how to say thank you anyways.”

Draco’s pale fingers gripped the metal bedframe until his knuckles turned a sickly yellow. “You don’t get to just throw yourself out there like that and expect me to be fine with it! Do you think Weasley was playing?”

“Stop yelling at her Draco.” Harry deepened his tone, throwing a warning glare his way. “That’s not how to show you care.”

“Would you rather I blubber into tears then?” he snapped. “You looked DEAD Hermione. For a fucking second, I thought you DIED.” He pushed himself back from the bedframe and flung the curtain aside, storming off.

Tears welled in her eyes. “Harry, what happened?”

“I don’t know, I was with Ron. Your spell was forcing his own wand into his chest. It was gonna kill him. Snape had to pull you to your senses, but I’m sorry, I wasn’t with you. I didn’t see.”

Frantic, Hermione pushed Harry aside and stepped on wobbly legs. “Draco!” she called, almost collapsing to the floor. Harry pulled her back to her feet and dragged her back to her bed.

“No, let him go.” He told her. “He’s gotta get it out in his own way.”

“Do you mind?” Dean’s annoyed voice rang out. He stepped out from behind the curtain where Seamus was recovering. “Not that Seamus doesn’t need the wake-up call, I’d just rather not overhear of this little drama you have going on.”

“Oh pardon me then, for not even knowing you or he were even behind a bloody curtain when I just came to myself!” she spat vehemently at him. Harry pulled her back more and swung the curtain as one would a door but with no satisfying effect.

“Hermione, get back in the bed or I’m calling Madam Pomfrey.” He ordered in that tone she knew he meant.

“Fine!” she shouted back, flopping on the thin mattress and crossing her arms. “Happy now?”

Harry surprised her by launching himself into a hug, encompassing her—bushy hair and all—and squeezing just a little tighter than he should. But it was enough. She understood that whatever happened, however she looked must’ve been terrifying. Enough for Snape to have to enter her mind, enough for Harry to nearly squeeze the breath out of her, and enough for Draco to rant and rage.

Everyone dealt with grief in their own way. He just wasn’t used to expressing his feelings as openly as she and her friends. He carried on like that in the greenhouse, all the while she sat there entertained by it, she knew he was expressing his concern.

“It’s ok Harry. I’m fine now.” She assured him until his grip on her loosened. “Draco isn’t the crying type, I know he’s trying…He just takes a little deciphering.”

“You think?” Harry laughed. “You wouldn’t believe the conversation we just had not but a moment ago.” But did not elaborate further due to Dean Thomas’s exceptional hearing from across the room.  
………………………….

Seamus had come to with no worse for wear, only a ravenous appetite to which Madam Pomfrey prescribed him a healthy dose of dinner in the Great Hall. Dean appointed himself as his personal watchdog to make sure he didn’t collapse or show any signs of brain damage. His and Hermione’s return to the Gryffindor table was a welcome relief to most. 

Hermione was congratulated on her brave skills on the field, which had Ron rolling his eyes and snorting in disgust. Everyone clearly ignored him and tried to have a friendly dinner. He wasn’t looking forward to another night in the cell and was picking at his food, grumbling under his breath. With the bandage still adhered to her forehead, there was no hiding the truth of the injury she had, unlike Seamus who cracked the back of his when he hit the ground.

For the first time in what felt like ages, she was able to have a full meal, even a touch of dessert, despite Ron’s proximity and glowering blue eyes.  
……………….

After storming away from the infirmary Draco meandered the halls with no goal in mind. The following lessons had been cancelled due to all the injuries sustained by Moody’s game of dodgeball and some students took that free time to gather up and study or hang out. He was in no mood for either. 

He hoped he wasn’t hanging his cloak on Harry only to have it tossed to the wind. But seeing Hermione’s open, glazed over eyes had broke something in him, and he knew he’d never forgive himself if something like that actually had happened to her. After Harry opened his do-gooder mouth and prattled on about hope and faith, all in an effort to cheer him up for one measly minute he knew he couldn’t keep it contained any longer.

It had been cathartic in a way, getting it all off his chest.

Not in the same way he spoke to Theo about the development between his self and Hermione. That was something any teen could talk to another about. But his worries for his father being involved with some sort of plan to bring back the Dark Lord? There wasn’t a Slytherin soul he felt he could go to with that. Especially since Harry already thwarted an attempt in his first fucking year of school. Setting the bar pretty damn high for accomplishments right out the gate. 

Of course, mention the name of You-Know-Who and Harry stands to attention, wand at the ready. Who wouldn’t if they survived the Avada Kedavra and had their parents murdered by the maniac? He knew he could trust the Potter kid to help him. Now just to find proof they could give to Dumbledore…

In his brooding, he shoved past Crabbe and Goyle, telling them to fuck off and quit being useless. He had no time for thick skulled, inbred purebloods with the vocabulary of a first year student. Hell, he didn’t even want to socialize with Blaise and Theo either; he just wanted to be left alone.

He left them to ponder their next choice of action and pushed by other students until he kicked open an exiting door and found himself on the grounds by Hagrid’s hut before he knew it.  
………………………


	18. Hagrid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unlikely pair sit together and have a chat. Today seems the day for those conversations whether Draco wants them or not.

The half-giant groundskeeper was brushing dirt off his hands onto his well-worn pants after dealing with some temperamental hippogriffs when he noticed the telltale shock of white-blond hair of one Draco Malfoy, storming in a silent rage that even he could feel from the distance. 

Never one to let someone suffer in silence—despite how much of a prat they may be in class—Hagrid called out to the trouble youth. He was surprised when, Malfoy actually turned around and came pounding up the dirt to see his Magical Creatures Professor.

“Yer lookin’ a sight young Malfoy.” He stated, an observation that didn’t need to be spoken but was used more as an ice breaker.

“Yeah, you would too if you had the day I have.” The teen snapped. He jammed his hands into his pockets and kicked some dirt. “I just needed some air; I’m not up to anything.”

“Ne’er said yer were, though I see why’d yer be sayin’ somethin’ like that, given yer track record.” The larger man replied. “Bout to put a kettle on if yer wantin’ a lil’ company.”

Draco inhaled. No, he wasn’t looking for company in particular, nor was he parched for tea, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt. If he was reduced to tears of boredom he could simply say he had detention to head off to and it wouldn’t be a lie. Part of him always wondered what the trio did on their many visits to the hut, it was a well-known fact they partook tea on regular occasion with the man.

“Sure Hagrid. I could go for tea.” He sighed, wondering if he was merely doing this because it was something Hermione was wont to do. What was a chat with Hagrid like anyways?

“Always ah pleasure to have tea with a student. Can’t say we’ve e’er had that? First time fer everythin’!” Hagrid bellowed merrily as he led the way into the condensed home.

Having grown up in opulence and splendor, Hagrid’s hut was pathetically tiny and cramped, but it was warm and welcoming…cozy. He could only imagine how comforting it would be on the chilly days of winter with a mug of cocoa. Much of Hagrid’s furniture looked as if he’d carved it himself, or collected discarded pieces from secondhand shops in Diagon alley. He silently seated himself as Hagrid scooted the kettle over the already roaring fire, thankful the man had a window open or else he’d be shucking layers off in minutes.

“Not tah fine dinin’ yer uses tah but it’ll only be a minute.” Hagrid said in an almost embarrassed defense of his home.

Draco felt a stab in his chest. This cottage didn’t even compare to the garden shed on the Manor grounds. “It’s alright Hagrid; it’s the least thing to be worried about right now.”  
Perplexed by the seemingly kind statement, the Keeper of the Keys plopped himself into his favorite chair and faced the lad across the table. “Yer troubled, deep. Somethin' got yer rattled.”

Draco sighed and nodded. His hands were clenched together on the table. “I’d first like to apologize for Buckbeak. I should’ve just listened and did the stupid bow.”

Hagrid blinked several times. Luckily, the whistle of the kettle brought him out of his momentary stupor. With an expert reach, he pulled the kettle away from the fire and set it on the table and grabbed two nearby mugs. “Mighty big of yer to ‘pologize like that, I’m proud yer come ‘round on yer own. Buchbeak’s fine doh….Ooh, I shouldn’ta said that…”

Draco’s head snapped up. “But I thought…”

Hagrid waved him into silence while pouring the hot water. “Shhh, Dumbledore’s little secret, kay?” Draco nodded. Not another word on it then. “But thank yer Draco.”

Draco pulled the mug towards him, blowing the steam that billowed from its top as he searched for something to say. Fortunately, Hagrid was always willing to fill the silence and did it for him.

“Ha’en’t had too many visits from my usual crowd this year. Guessin’ the lessons are getting’ tougher on dem boys and our Hermione’s crackin’ down on the the studies.” He chuckled.

Draco felt like crawling into his mug and drowning himself in the steaming hot brew.

“Yer down and can’t talk to yer friends ‘bout it?”

For the life of him, he couldn’t fathom why, he nodded. 

“Deear boy, just let it out or it’ll eat yer soul up.”

“What do you care about my troubles? I’ve been a right little shit in your class. And to your favorite trio of students. And to half this damn school.” He sighed with resignation. The hand resting on his knee dug its nails into his skin.

“While dat may be true, it mustbe somet’ing big to have brought yer here.” The giant replied, unphased by the snippy retort. He dealt with enough testy, feisty, and dangerous animals to know that sometimes when one swiped their paws out at a hand, it was actually their way of reaching out. Draco was no exception. Just a little temperamental dragon.

“I know why your golden trio haven’t been by for tea.” He bluntly opened with, just ripping the bandage off the wound. “It’s due to a rift between Weasley and Granger. And myself…”

Hagrid cocked his head to the side.

“It’s been a few months now. Starting with Yule…”

Time seemed irrelevant as Draco spoke, just recounting the events that had led up to today. Hagrid sat and listened, with some interruptions, a few gasps, and the occasional grunt of disapproval. To his credit, however much of a chatterbox he was, he also held his tongue as someone bared their sorrows. Especially from one who never bared their sorrows.

The silence that followed was unsettling. Hagrid’s bushy brows narrowed as his lips pursed up tightly. One could see the cogwheels spinning as he made a silent nod to himself, taking in Draco’s account of things. Draco was sure this was the longest he’d ever seen the man be so quiet. Unsettling indeed.

“So Hermione’s hurt in a bad way then? And by Weasley? Hmmm.” The burly man grumbled to himself. “Jealousy’s a terr’ble thin’ mate. Can make a good man go bad.” He shook his head. “Least she has you now, right?”

Draco pushed his lukewarm mug away. He shook his head. “Not after I yelled at her in the infirmary just now.” He threw his head back and sighed. “And right after I think I accidently became friends with Potter too.”

“Well ther’s good news a’least!” Hagrid happily exclaimed. “Yer little feud was startin’ tah become legendary ‘round here. Bout time that one gets cleared up, even if Harry loses Ron as a friend…” he lamented. “Yer know, it’s hard livin’ in tha shadow of five older brothers. I’mma guessin’ he’s just sorting himself out and all this’ll be cleared by the summah.”

Draco didn’t share Hagrid’s optimism. Slowly yet surely, Ron was headed down a dark path and that was one thing neither Hermione or Harry would align themselves with. His bullying was becoming violent, dangerously so, and was causing unrest among the ranks in Gryffindor.

“Boys yer age fight all tha time. ‘Specially when a girl be involved.” Hagrid continued as if unaware of Draco’s mind wandering. “Yer takin’ a fancy to our Hermione then? Things sure do change ‘round here!”

The young man felt uncomfortable with discussing his feelings about Hermione when he had only realized them recently. Having it pried out of him by Theo was grueling enough, but at least he knew Theodore Nott could keep a bloody secret. Hagrid was known for a slip-up or two, bless his giant heart. He felt he’d already spilled enough secrets and feelings for one day.

“She and I have become friends. Apparently that is enough to set Weasley off.” Draco took a glance out of the window and knew some time had passed. “I should be going, I have to turn in my wand and serve another night in the detention cells.”

“Detention? In the dungeon? Yer not gonn’ do right by Hermione if yer keep getting’ in trouble, just so yer know.”

Draco shot the groundskeeper a curious look as he took to his feet, brushing crumbs of his slacks from the biscuits he shared. There was a second’s worth of thought regarding a biting retort before he changed his mind. Hagrid had shown him an undeserved kindness and he wasn’t about to spoil it by being a prat all over again. 

Considering if was intending on following through with his earlier declaration regarding her. Malfoys’ simply did not quit once they set a goal for themselves.  
……………………..

Filch and Snape escorted the two teens back to the dungeons cells before the Great Hall filled with students for dinner. Those receiving punishment were summoned a meager plain meal and water, no cuts of veal or pumpkin juice here! And having confiscated their wands, the two couldn’t pose much of a threat to each other as the very wary eye of the potions professors and caretaker.

Being a Squib, Argus Filch was incapable of performing magic and therefore grew resentful of the likes of students such as the two before him. Rich or poor didn’t matter to him, pretentious little show off trouble makers were all alike. And they’d be punished far worse if he had his way. But no, Dumbledore wouldn’t let him dangle students by their ankles. Unfortunately, he couldn’t activate the magic seal to each cell, thus why Snape was accompanying him. That, and one of the boys was under his care so he was seeing it through.

Neither teen spoke to each other, a small blessing for the staff and entered their cells with no fuss either. They were far more subdued than the day before, fresh from their fight and still itching to get one final jab at each other. No one wanted to be down here any longer than necessary so it made sense they were being civil and obedient. 

Snape left them one lingering low-lit lamp in the hall between their cells, enough light to make out their surroundings and not much else. Even if he had a book, the crude yellow illumination would’ve made reading difficult to enjoy, so Malfoy just sighed and laid himself on the thin mattress and stared at the ceiling. A tiny part of him hoped Hermione would come to see him again, but he wasn’t holding much hope on that. Not with how poorly he handled his concern for her.

\--I’ve got to get a grip on my fucking temper.—he chided himself.

He sighed, nestling a bit to get comfortable, recalling his strangely pleasant conversation with Hagrid earlier. It shocked him with how easily the groundskeeper accepted his friendship with Hermione, like, he didn’t even need to question it with anyone else, if it was fine by her then it was good enough. Amazing how well her word was just instantly taken by the figures of authority around this establishment. An incredible feat to accomplish and no doubt only one that would be granted to the likes of her in any house other than his own.

\--She really is too good a person…--

It was a wonder that Weasley was being quiet for once, a blessing he couldn’t be happier with but knew better than to count on. He expected the ginger to start hurling insults and snide remarks, but oddly none came. Perhaps he’d used up his entire repertoire yesterday and had nothing new in his limited imagination. One could only hope. He shut his eyes to resign himself to sleep but found himself back on the Quidditch pitch, her limp body in his arms, eyes open and listless.

He must’ve been pale as a sheet, more so than his usual pallor at the way Professor Snape had caught his breath and took a second to gather himself as he knelt down to inspect his unconscious classmate. Snape had grabbed his arm, forcing his attention away from her frightening visage for a moment.

“What happened? Tell me!” the professor demanded. 

“Levitation spell…he dropped—slammed—her down…she just crumpled.” He choked out; trying to explain what he could barely believe what happened. That thing she did with her necktie…was that the wandless magic the guys had spoken of? It was so fluid, flawless, and fierce.

Snape looked down at her eyes and then leaned down to put his ear to her chest. “She’s breathing. She’s alive.”

Draco released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. It shuddered from him a painful guttural gasp that had his potions instructor shaking his hands as he swept hair away from her head wound. “Calm yourself Malfoy for Merlin’s sake.” Snape ordered.

Dumbledore called out to him, they conversed for a moment until it was decided their best option was to use Legilimens before her spell killed Weasley. Not that the ginger’s life mattered much to him. Poetically tragic, it would be, for Weasley to lose his life at the tip of his own wand, a wand known for backfiring on him in their second year. Just a little payback for that teeth enlargement spell.

He laid her gently on the ground, mindful of her trauma and watched with fascination and anxious hope as Snape cleared his mind and incanted the spell and then seemed fixed in a trance as he knew he’d made contact with her mind. For a moment, nothing happened, neither moved. Then Snape’s lips moved as if to speak to her, a conversation flowing that he only saw one side of, as Hermione still lay in her comatose state. He heard a gurgling cough from Weasley as he struggled under the brunt of his wand, digging into his chest.

The air around them hummed with magic, suddenly Snape’s eyes opened, fluttering for a moment as he came to, just as the milky orbs in her sockets returned their normal honey-brown before closing.

“Oh thank Merlin.” He whispered to himself.

At McGonagall’s order for everyone to the infirmary, Snape levitated her limp body upwards, grass and clods of dirt falling from her hair as her form defied gravity, floating as if she were light as a feather. He stayed by Snape’s side until they were effectively shooed away by Madam Pomfrey as soon as she assessed that he and Potter had no injuries.   
And then Potter started in with his ridiculous notions of faith and hope and his terrible family all in some impulsive need to drag his thoughts away from the frantic scene among the rows of beds. That annoying Gryffindor. Damn he was good at those stupid little moments. Good to a fault. 

For a moment he thought he was going crazy, when he saw the sudden form of Potter in front of his cell door, hand up to lips in the signal for silence as he cast a charm over the entrance and revealing the rest of his body out from under an invisibility cloak. Of course the little prat had an invisibility cloak. How else did he manage sneak around right under the professors’ noses? And that map Hermione spoke of…was there nothing this kid had to best him with?

“Well Potter, I knew you wanted to be friends but I never expected you to come serenade sweet nothings to me in the dead of night.” He joked, still lying back on his terribly uncomfortable stone slab bed.

Harry lifted half his mouth in a smile. “Sorry to disappoint you Malfoy but I don’t remember declaring my undying love for you back in the infirmary.”

Draco chuckled at the banter. He had to hand it to both Harry and Hermione; they were sassy when they wanted to be.

“To what do I owe this great pleasure?”

“I want to know what you saw today.” He stated matter-of-factly. “What you meant about Hermione. She’s driving us all crazy, integrating everyone who was involved with the game, but you were the closest one to her. You’re the only one who can describe it.”

The Slytherin student sighed. “Is that why you cast a silencing charm over us? You don’t want the Weasel hearing this little conversation? And an invisi-cloak to boot?” he whistled for effect. “I’m not even allowed to bring mine here.”

Harry inhaled. “It was my late father’s. Someone sent it to me, over Christmas break in first year. Don’t know who. And as for Ron, this conversation is confidential.”

Draco sat up. “Ah. Well I guess it’s nice to have something of his.” He sincerely replied. How could he relate to having barely a memory or memento of parents long gone? Even if it was a pair of old shoes, he would bet Potter would cherish and keep them as if they were crafted from dragon leather.

Harry waited in patient silence.

“Is she really integrating everybody?” he chuckled. At Harry’s confirmed nod, he continued. “Look, it only lasted a moment, before Snape was able to fix it. She’s fine, that’s all that matters.”

“No, it’s not fine and you know it.” Harry snapped. “You scared her with that outburst, and then leaving without further ado. Now she’s damned and determined to put the pieces together. You know how she is once she fixates on something unknown. And only you have the answer.”

Draco cocked his head. “Then why isn’t she here instead?”

“Because despite wanting to march down here herself and demand it from you personally, that bloody bandage on her forehead has everyone hyper focused on her and no one is letting her out of their sight. For once, it’s peaceful in the common room, like it used to be.”

The blond scrunched up his nose as he understood the implied message. But it warmed his chest a little hearing that she’d rather be down there again, even if it was only in the quest for answers.

“She mad at me?” he inquired, trying to sound aloof, though the tapping of one foot was probably a dead giveaway to his anxiety.

“I don’t know how she already understands you.” Harry breathed out with exhaustion. “Honestly. She knows you were concerned. She knows that, but it’s still not an excuse to speak to her like you did. And if you intend to become more than friends you’re going to have to work on that.”

Draco’s foot stopped tapping. He chewed on the side of his cheek in contemplation. “Potter…it was her eyes.” He whispered in a ghostly tone. “A mental shield…she was protecting her mind as she went down. But her eyes…they were open, lifeless. She was elsewhere, Snape only knows.” He waved his hand in the air, unable to describe it further. “But it was terrifying, having never seen someone like that before.” 

There wasn’t a proper response to something like that, and so the two remained in silence for a healthy moment, just taking in this new mutual camaraderie they just founded, but glad to have someone who cared for Hermione equally. It was important, knowing there was another that would look out for her.

“What are you going to do about Weasley?”

Harry licked his dried lips. “I wish I knew what to do. But I won’t be joining him and Ginny on holiday this time, I’m staying with Hermione. She needs somebody here with her.”  
A soft little scoff escaped his lips. “Always a friend to the end, eh?”

“It’s not hard, when you care.” Harry responded. “And I’ve contacted Dobby; he’s agreed to join you back at your home, help you look for stuff. After all, he warned me—in his weird little way—about the upcoming dangers in second year.”

That turned Draco’s head. “He is?” he couldn’t disguise the elation in his voice in that moment before clearing his throat and composing himself. “Good. That’ll come in handy.”

But Harry knew better. “You know, I always wondered how Dobby became so enamored with me after just one year of me attending Hogwarts.” He replied in a little sing-song manner, that tone which implied a tease was coming, like he knew a secret.

Draco shrugged.

“Oh come on now. There’s obviously only one person that could’ve talked to him about me, and had anything even remotely positive to say. Someone who confessed to helping provide a clue about the basilisk….”

He ran a hand through his blond hair. “You’re a right prick, you know that? Got me cornered and taking advantage—not that I condone that—just never thought you’d be pressing my back to the wall.” He exhaled a heavy sigh. “Alright fuck it, yes; I talked to him about you. He was my friend, I told him everything. I had high aspirations for my first year, and they were thwarted by The-Boy-Who-Lived in all his mundane glory.” 

Satisfied, Harry just smiled. “So you really did want to be my friend…”

“I think you’ve poked me enough for one day. I haven’t had too many heartfelt conversations in one day and frankly I’m just exhausted of it. Ugh, you and needless prattling about feelings.” He made a disgusted sound as if he wanted to throw up and slouched back onto the mattress to lie down.

“Get your beauty sleep, you’re gonna need it.” Harry laughed.

Draco threw a hand in the air, an obscene gesture his saying of saying goodnight. It hid the smile he had concealed against the crook of his arm as Harry silently slid away into the dark, secure with his spell and cloak, leaving him to rest on knowledge that they would’ve gotten along fabulously had they got on the right foot in first year.  
……………………………..


	19. Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione discovers what she used was a form of Occlumency. Ginny offers love advice from her Witch Teen magazine. Draco’s inner dialogue occupies his concentration as he concludes he’s doing the right thing.

“Occlumency.” Hermione said out loud, tapping a passage in the book in her hands. “Occlumency is the act of magically closing one's mind against Legilimency. It is ancient, and has existed since medieval times. It can prevent a Legilimens from accessing one's thoughts and feelings, or influencing them. A person who practices this art is known as an Occlumens.”

“And Malfoy said Snape had to use Legilimens to enter your mind and have you shut it down.” Harry concluded, now that he was back in the Gryffindor common room from his visit to the dungeon. Time for bed had passed, and all the other students had gone to their dorms, except her, who waited for his return.

He wasn’t surprised when the first thing out of her mouth had been “Well? Did he tell you or is he insisting that he’ll only speak to me directly?”

Goodness, they weren’t even an official couple and she was already sounding like an exasperated wife.

Harry shucked off the invisi-cloak, folded it and tucked it into a pouch especially for it—so he wouldn’t lose the damn thing; it was invisible after all—and sat down with a heavy plop. Dobby was sitting in their room, petting Crookshanks now that all the other teens were in bed. Harry turned to the little house elf. “Dobby, can you take this to my room and put it back in my trunk without disturbing the guys?” he asked kindly.

“Dobby would be honored sir.” The munchkin happily replied, grasping the little pouch and dashing off on wobbly legs as he ran rather than apparate to the boy’s dorm.  
“It took a little coaxing—dare I say even a little flirting—to get him to talk, but yeah, he told me.”

Hermione’s lips had no choice but to curl up in a smile she was desperately trying to still. Yeah, that sounded like Draco Malfoy. If you wanted something from him, you had to speak his language, and it often catered to his whims.

“Granted, he was just a third party observing, but given his description of it, you used a mental shield before you hit the ground. And you were so focused that your bond wasn’t broken even after losing consciousness. You were effectively trapped in your own mind while holding Ron’s life in your hand. Had Snape not used Legilimens, you could’ve killed him, or Dumbledore would’ve had to cast something to keep him immobilized until you came to.”

“But that doesn’t explain what he meant when he said-”

“Shh!” he put a hand up upon Dobby’s return. He did not want the endearing house elf to hear that any of his beloved friends were in danger or had even remotely looked like it today. “Thank you Dobby. Malfoy will be released tomorrow should you want to make yourself available to see him.”

“Right sir.” He replied with a bowed head. “Goodnight Harry Potter. Miss Hermione Granger.”

After he disapparated, Harry let out a breath. “You know Dob would freak out if heard that.” He chided. “Honestly Mione, I don’t think I should tell you.”

“You better!” she smacked his arm. “You promised me!”

Harry rubbed his hands together nervously. “He said it was your eyes.”

She blinked several times. 

“That you looked lost. They were open and lifeless.” He let out a breath and a resounding silence followed. “You freaked him out; he fully admits it that it terrified him. So yeah, I guess I understand why he went ballistic in the infirmary. You did purposefully make yourself Ron’s target so he wouldn’t instigate something with his own team captain.” 

She pressed her hands to her lips in contemplation, the weight of this knowledge a heavy burden to bear but she wouldn’t let it bring her down. She was going to have to get this new unchecked ability under wraps—quickly—before she became a danger to herself and others. With a lightbulb of inspiration flicked on overhead she jumped up to the bookshelf and ran her finger along the spines until she found one that might give her insight to this before she underwent training with Professor Snape. Protection Charm Your Mind: A Practical Guide to Counter Legilimency by Franciscus Fieldwake.

After flipping to the passaged marked for defense, she found it: Occlumens.  
…………………

“I’ve read plenty in those teen magazines on how to get a guy’s attention and it’s a load of hogwash.” Hermione drolled as she dressed in the morning. “Obviously, I didn’t even need to if he’s fancied me from the beginning.”

“Well, I’d say that’s in your favor. You’re not exactly the best at flirting—odd, you do hang around a lot of guys though—and I hear that Viktor Krum not exactly the best at talking either.” Ginny laughed.

“Ok, first of all, it’s the accent. Bulgarian is very thick and guttural. Give him a break. And honestly, he’s just here temporarily. It would be silly to insinuate a long distance relationship between our schools and countries merely based on one dance at the ball.”

“Why not? It worked for that glass slipper girl didn’t it?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “The Disney movies are hardly material worth taking to heart. They’re sugar-coated versions of darker fairytales. In the original tale, her step-sisters cut off part of their own feet so they can fit the glass slipper. Completely idiotic and barbaric, just to marry some prince who could turn out to have the personality of a store mannequin!” she huffed, pulling back her hair.

Ginny came up to her curly haired friend. “I think you should have it in a ponytail today. A new look always gets attention.”

“I’m not trying to get attention.” She looked at herself in the mirror, pushing her unruly hair up, turning side to side. “But maybe…”

“Well I know a certain Slytherin who would have a hard time keeping his eyes off you. And it would be even better if you ignore him all day, just to stick it to him.”

Hermione pulled the pink scrunchie around the thick bundle of hair. “Why would I want to ignore him? I know he was worried. Shouldn’t it make more sense that I would want to talk with him?”

The little redhead sighed. “You don’t know the first thing about boys for being around them all the time. Then again, my brother isn’t very bright on picking up subtle hints and Harry’s head is always looking over his shoulder, so I can’t blame you. But you said Draco yelled at you. If you ignore him today that tells him he did wrong, and he’ll find ways to get your attention so he can apologize. And the longer it goes on, the more desperate he’ll be.”

Hair secured, Hermione spun around. “You do know you’re talking about the most prideful, egotistical, prattiest of the prat Draco Malfoy?” she let out a laugh and tossed on her robe. “It was like pulling teeth just to get him to actually say the word ‘sorry’ when he was apologizing to me. I don’t think this ignoring ploy is going to work.”

Ginny stopped short, a hand to her mouth. “Pulling teeth? That job that your parents have? They actually do that?”

Reapplying a new bandage to her forehead, Hermione merely hummed a response. “Yep. But it’s also a muggle phrase indicating a hard task to overcome. Trust me, I’ve heard every tooth based joke there is.”

“Let’s make it a bet then. A galleon. Loser pays.” She bared a smile, knowing Hermione could easily be seduced when the task involved knowledge. “Consider this an experiment, testing a theory.”

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, the brunette fell in line as they exited the girls’ dorm. “If you put it that way, it does make sense to try it out.”  
…………………..

While profoundly ignoring Malfoy, Hermione had also pushed her limited knowledge of flirtation into avoiding any and all male attention that was given to her that day. Somehow, a ponytail had given the opposite sex a little insight at her neck, her ears, and how shapely her face was now that it wasn’t swamped in a mass of curls that had been compared to hanging moss or a wet shaggy dog that had adhered to her skull with a sticking charm.

Chatting away during breakfast, she hadn’t noticed the looks from fellow Gryffindor boys, or even the nearby Hufflepuffs. She laughed at a joke and swished her hair back, oblivious to how many breaths caught in throats. Ginny smirked her freckled face in secret delight, not even Ron was immune to it despite his bitterness with her currently. Her friend was simply unaware of how pretty she truly was, and that it wasn’t just her brains that the boys were noticing.

She kicked Harry from under the table when she caught him momentarily lost in her direction, quickly snapping him out of it and back to her. She didn’t need another reason for Ron to go off, or Malfoy for that matter. She was certain he was looking, though she tried to not be obvious when she snuck a glance over.

It was then that the owls flew in with parcels and letters along with the local paper. Once again, it seemed that Rita Skeeter had nothing better to do than to stalk the students of Hogwarts. Her favorites being Harry and Hermione. Another slanderous column was now painting Hermione as the latest victim to the Malfoy charm and for the other pureblood girls to not fret, for she was merely the flavor of the week.

An anguished groan soon led way to screams as all the nearby copies of the Daily Prophet and Hogwarts Daily erupted into flames.

“Oi, Seamus! Can you not set shit on fire for one day?” Lavender cried, brushing her ash coated hands together.

“It wasn’t me this time, I swear!” he cried in defense.

Hermione angrily stood, palms flat on the table with a growl in her throat. “I will kill that bitch!” she grabbed her bag and stormed out of the great hall with purposeful strides, unaware and uncaring of the eyes that followed.

“Well, someone’s got her knickers in a twist.” Ron snorted, grabbing another muffin.  
………………………….

Hermione wasn’t the only one out for Rita’s blood now. 

Draco fumed as he read the drivel that Skeeter scribbled up, regretting now that he’d ever thought to drag Hermione’s name through the mud. He’d been naïve to think that it would’ve ended there, but Rita couldn’t leave well enough alone. He was two seconds from grabbing the paper out of Theo’s hands before fireballs erupted at the Gryffindor table, startling students in the vicinity.

He took in the scene with his friends, as they laughed, but he knew it wasn’t Seamus Finnigan for once. Even more startling was that it seemed Hermione was well aware of what she had done before storming off. Another wordless conjure that was effective as much as worrisome. Her emotional outbursts were becoming worse. And this time, it was on him.

Magical History was as boring as it sounded. Just repetition of who fought in this war, who created this charm, who concocted this potion blah blah blah. Even on a good day he couldn’t keep from rolling his eyes and letting his imagination wander, barely concentrating on keeping up with notes and assignments. He easily let Hermione have the lead to score house points. It seemed trivial now, knowing how she really felt about it. He wondered if she was conceding their challenge after coming clean with her confession the day before.

He of course heard the whispers. He knew what other Slytherins were saying as well as purebloods from other houses.

“What is he thinking, getting mixed up with her?”

“He’s obviously using her, there’s no way it’s serious.”

“Just another notch in his belt.”

“I wonder what Pansy thinks of this?”

That one perked his ear up. It was fucking Pansy’s idea to throw them together in a closet to snog! If she wanted revenge for him ditching her at Yule she certainly had achieved it. He’d bet a thousand galleons it was her that put the word in Skeeter’s ear. Most of those who had attended the party hadn’t given two shakes of a unicorn’s tail to bother caring beyond making little jokes and having a laugh about it the following day. It was taken as nothing but a party prank with a little liquid courage to get it going.

Oh Blaise sure laid into him. Mercilessly. Along with Theo. He threatened to hex them into next week to no avail; they had their fun poking the “Dragon Who Got Bit” along with a few other Slytherins. He had vehemently tried defending his reaction to her bite but honestly he couldn’t even believe it himself. She got him good and as much as he hated to lose, he had to acknowledge the victory in her favor. For now.

But he’d have to make it up to her first. Potter—damn him—was right about his outburst in the med-wing. But Draco was not one for hysterics, and even when he had her unconscious form in his arms he had at least not broken into tears. Blubbering for the muggleborn swot? Although it tore through his gut like a knife. That would’ve been far too damning to his reputation, to his family name, to his own damn pride. A Malfoy did not cry.

Hermione Granger was strong girl in more ways than one. He knew, he was part of her daily struggle to prove it since day one of school, ever since being sorted into Gryffindor, their fate was sealed. Enemies. Her blood status alone was enough to have that barrier up, but he hadn’t found that out until much later. He’d taken her for a snobbish half-blood with some obscure claim to a pureblood family he wasn’t acquainted with and a chip on her shoulder, possibly stemming from some blood feud with another family. The way she carried herself, spoke to the professors, spoke to those she considered beneath her—which was practically everyone—had him drawn in. Who was this wild haired princess that was excelling in every class? Just where had she come from? And how would he get her to notice him?

His extensive research had left him disgusted. A Mudblood. A fucking filthy Mudblood that had turned his head and had him stumbling over himself trying to earn her acknowledgement. Oh how he had shuddered. He wanted to Obliviate every thought he’d ever had of her and Scourgify his brain afterwards for good measure. And after he’d gone and blabbed to his father all about the one student in the whole academy that was surpassing him….

He was still coming to terms with it when they met at Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley. He recalled his father’s disapproving cold glare at her, how she glared right back, completely unafraid and almost challenging him to brandish his wand at her. Fearless. She tolerated none of it. She looked at Lucius Malfoy with the same contempt one would with a repulsive insect. He’d honestly been taken by that fearlessness, the sheer audacity and confidence. A little twelve year old girl, facing down a man that would literally kill her on the command of the Dark Lord had he been resurrected their first year.

He’d made his mind up. He wasn’t going to sit by and do nothing about the Basilisk. 

It was his underestimate of her that earned him a broken nose last year, and a healthy respect for keeping himself at arm’s length—literally—so she couldn’t do it again. Wizards were not known for their physical fights nearly as much for their magical duels, and it had shaken him that a scrawny, brainy fourteen year old girl was willing to throw a punch and make it hurt so damn much. Like fucking hell, how did she even manage that? Must be from carrying around all those damn books, it was like a daily exercise regime.

He’d just kept it simple with taunts and name calling from a distance. Self-preservation and all. 

And then the summer break happened.

A sniveling Peter Pettigrew had been outed as the rat familiar of none other than Ronald Weasley, Sirius Black (his first cousin once removed and Harry’s freaking godfather!) had escaped from Azkaban, and their Defense professor had resigned after his unfortunate werewolf condition was made public. As far as werewolves went, Draco had never felt endangered around Professor Lupin and in a way, felt sorry he was sacked. He was certainly a better man than Fenrir Greyback.

Just thinking of that man’s name ran a shiver down his spine.

And now Pettigrew was one of a few familiar faces around the Manor, working for or in tandem with his father, he couldn’t tell. They both had the same goal: bring back the Dark Lord. Pettigrew was coming and going, a real errand boy as his father spoke with other heavily cloaked figures in his study on how to earn favor by presenting Draco as an offering, becoming the youngest Death Eater, able to infiltrate the school alongside his godfather Severus Snape and gather intel. Keep an eye on Potter. 

The school would become the Dark Lord’s domain once he was back, indocturing his purist belief into the next generation of wizards—purebloods and half-bloods only—and that meant eliminating several wizards in his way, such as Dumbledore. It was enough to keep him up at night, mulling it over. While he considered Old D to be a pretentious coot and most of the muggleborns to be annoying at best….the idea of that much blood spilt unsettled him. Sure, he had nothing to worry about, not with his father being a faithful follower, not without them being one of the Sacred 28, not without their abundant wealth and connections, they’d be protected. 

And people like Harry Potter and Hermione would be eliminated.

He knew the plan was being put into action the moment Harry’s fucking name came flying out of the Goblet of Fire, the whole school erupting into chaos while he felt his blood run cold. It was happening, and only he knew there was something that inevitably led to Voldemort—because it always fucking did—and yet he had no way to prove it. No one would believe him, even if he was brave enough to say anything. And so he bid his time. He would’ve gone home that Christmas had it not been for the Yule ball. And wasn’t it there that this all began?

Seeing her there, alone for the first time in what seemed like forever, terribly vulnerable but irresistible. He had to have at least one moment to speak with her without the influence of either of their entourage around. If they could just manage one civil conversation…

“Oi, Malfoy!” a voice called, breaking his deep plunge into a rabbit hole of wanderlust.

“Uh? What?” he snapped to, shaking his head. The class was over, seats empty, students milling about the doorway. He’d been beckoned, and apparently several times by the look on his friends faces. “Sorry…you know how it is after a night of detention.” He lamely grumbled as he gathered his supplies and caught up with them. 

He was going to have to get better at compartmentalizing his thoughts.  
……………………

That evening, the girls were all in a gossipy mood over Draco’s inability to focus in class, which Ginny took as a sure sign that he couldn’t stop thinking of her. Hermione rolled her eyes, but had noticed he wasn’t on top his game and basically gave her the lead on house points. Was he trying to make it up to her like that? If so, she wasn’t going to blindly accept it. She still wanted the challenge.

A tapping on one of the windows startled Parvati and Lavender into a high pitch gigglish shriek. Parvati jumped up and opened the window to reveal a regal looking eagle-owl, brownish-black except his fierce orange eyes. Clutched in one taloned grasp was a bundle of flowers, violet in color, star shaped and surrounded by clusters of white baby’s breath and pink diosma.

Hermione knew the magnificent bird belonged to Draco, she’d seen it deliver boxes of sweets to him at several times a month, which he’d make a huge display over and toss the undesirables to nearby Slytherins. How a boy with a sweet tooth that big had no cavities was beyond her (Magic of course!). She scooted off the bed and secured a snack for the owl, as was customary to do as Parvati gently removed the bouquet from the sharp talons. The bird happily nibbled the standard owl treat as she slipped it a little something for Draco in return. With an intelligent gleam in its eye, it cocked its head at her and flew off, disappearing into the night sky with the chocolate frog package firm in its claws. She hoped the candy wouldn’t get squished before Draco received it.

“It’s for you.” The Indian witch stated, seeing the tiny note attached, clearly marked for Hermione by name.

Lavender and Ginny both ‘’ooohed” in unison. Nothing like the romantic endeavors of another girl to set aside their current indifference to each other. Hermione graciously took the bundle and walked back to her bed, the other three in tow. 

“Well, someone’s certainly sorry.” Lavender piped up.

Hermione blushed against all her firm desire to not. She brought the bouquet to her nose and inhaled the fragrance. The mixture of the three different blossoms was a perfume all of its own, new and intoxicating.

“What did he do now?” the blonde asked, twirling some hair around her finger. At Hermione’s puzzled look she sighed. “Don’t you know what a purple Hyacinth means?”

None of the girls spoke.

Lavender Brown rolled her eyes dramatically and then cleared her throat. “In Floriography—the language of flowers—every flower has a meaning in which you can send a secret message to someone, given that they also know the meaning. A purple Hyacinth is for an apology, the Baby’s Breath means innocence and the Diosma says ‘Your simple elegance charms me’. So clearly, someone thinks highly of you and wants to get back in with your good graces. And we clearly know that isn’t my dear Won-Won.”

Stunned silence radiated from the three witches at her proclamation, blinking owlishly with mouths parted.

“What?” she asked. “You think I don’t know what flowers mean? My name IS Lavender. Meaning love and loyalty. I guess that’s what makes me such a great Gryffindor after all.” She mused with a giggle.  
…………………………….


	20. Flying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madam Hooch teaches some expert maneuvers to her 4th year students, and Hermione is absolutely terrified until both Harry and Draco offer their hands to assist.

Since the Slytherin dorms were down in the literal dungeon of the castle, with no windows that accessed air, if a Slytherin student wanted to owl somebody, they had to march themselves straight to the owlery and send off their note. It was an inconvenience but as being Slytherin went, they did have far more privacy than other students were granted.  
He’d originally planned to send the flowers so it’d arrive at dinner, where it would be a very public display of his intentions. Where every boy who dared looked at her would get the message loud and clear that she was already spoken for. Where Weasley could choke on his own bitter envy and feel it lodge in his throat. But that article from Skeeter blew that plan to hell. 

As he sent Ulysses off he released a sigh, just wondering what the hell he was getting himself into, with half his mind saying ‘fuck, just go for it!’ and the other half screaming ‘what will your parents think?’ with him terribly caught in between the two. Not that disappointing his father was anything new, but this would certainly take the cake and the whole bakery along with it.

But with all the salacious rumors spreading around in the halls today, he needed to reassure her that she wasn’t just some spring fling. It didn’t take long for the two foot tall avian messenger to return, flapping his majestic wings silently, approaching the outstretched arm of its master. It had taken years for his diminutive size to catch up to the massive bird and the strength to hold him up. The mighty Eurasian Eagle Owl was one of the largest species of owl, and certainly the largest one currently residing in the school’s owlery. There was no mistaking this bird for anyone else’s. 

Ulysses’ bright orange eyes lit like fire against his dark body, squinted shut as Draco ran a finger along his ear tuffs in affection for his personal messenger. The chocolate frog package fell from its clawed grip, drawing his attention. He carefully bent down to retrieve it, still holding the mighty bird along his outstretched arm. He smiled at the little gift. Obviously, chocolate frogs were easy to come by, a sickle a dozen and nothing special at all. But just the thought, her including something in return, the gesture was well received. 

“Alright boy, off with you.” He said softly, waving his arm gently. With one mighty push, Ulysses leapt off his perch and took to roost with the other owls. Draco popped open the package and grabbed the frog, immediately biting its head as he strolled along the hallways back to the dorms. The card was of no significance, one he had several of already, but he pocketed it anyways.  
………………………..

All three girls bustled in search of a green ribbon as Hermione rolled her eyes and continued brushing her wild hair and trying to tame it with some Sleakeasy’s gel. If the other three wanted to drive themselves into a tizzy over a silly ribbon let them, she was more focused on dealing with the morning’s rats nest that was her hair. Bless the witch that perfected the absolute detanglement spell for unruly locks.

She was sticking to the ponytail again, knowing that they had Flying class today and as she loathed it, she didn’t want it muss up her hair even more. It was spring now, moisture was in the air and it would frizz faster than you could say ‘Accio!’ but the girls were absolutely insisting that she wear some of her gifted flowers in her hair—as a gesture to show not only that she appreciated the gift but also reciprocated the feeling—or some sort of nonsense like that. 

Then Lavender had the epiphany of a lifetime by suggesting they tie the little hair pin with a green ribbon—Slytherin green of course—and thus the hunt began. It amazed her how much junk the girls had packed in their trunks as they fished through frippancies and giggled like they were having a slumber party.

At least they were all getting along. Currently. That’s all that mattered for now.  
…………………………

Breakfast started out normal, everyone piling into their usual spot—because after several years of school you just tended to form little units designated for yourself and your closest mates—and started on their meals, glasses of pumpkin juice and hearty entrees consisting of eggs and toast. It took her by complete surprise when the Weasley twins snuck up on her and planted a kiss on each of her cheeks, giving her whiplash and déjà vu as she spun from one to the other.

“Guys!” she squealed, her cheeks instantly pink.

“So, our dear little Granger is being courted now?” one of them started, nudging the other.

“And sporting a Slytherin green ribbon no less…Oh I wonder who it could be?” the second continued. Honestly, it was like speaking with one person that had cloned themselves.   
“I just felt like adding a flourish…” she pathetically denied, trying to shake off their flirtatious banter. They were always one to tease and joke. Ginny was quite immune to their antics by now. She’d seen and heard it all.

“Well don’t look, but a certain Slytherin prince is starring.” The first one indicated with the slightest of chin nudges. Hermione hoped her body didn’t betray her as she darted her eye across the room to see him, his grey eyes starring right back, his face unreadable. Her cheeks instantly flushed.

“Oh I think she looked.” The other chuckled.

“Buzz off you two.” Their little sister chided, shooing them away as if she were their mother. In many ways, Ginny kept the boys in line with a well imitated tone or look given by their matriarch. They moved along up a few spaces to sit with some of the other fifth years, giving Harry and Ron their places. Ron instantly knew what the flowers met, his blue eyes shifted into a narrow glare at her in a second.

Lavender scooted up next to him and gripped his arm. “Morning sweetie.” She cooed. In that moment, with her eyes closed with content, he rolled his eyes with disgust. Hermione’s heart twisted in a knot. Ron didn’t care at all for Lavender and she had no idea. 

“Morning honey.” He replied before quickly stuffing a muffin in his mouth. His glare stared a hole into Hermione, who tried drowning her anxiety with pumpkin juice and pancakes. She felt racked with guilt, because he was only using her and she had fallen completely for him. And Lavender would never believe from her own lips the truth she had just uncovered, which was worst of all.

With breakfast almost making its way back up her throat, Hermione excused herself with the first thing that came to mind: needing to check on her plants in Herbology. Everyone waved her off without a second thought as she grabbed her bag and an apple and darted out of the Great Hall on fast feet.

Seeing her hastily retreat, Draco pushed away from the table and told the guys he needed to check on his Potion assignment, currently residing in the Herbology greenhouse. He grabbed his bag without a further word, walked out of the Great Hall with all the grace of his princely nickname and then booked it once he was out of sight.  
……………………….

With her ponytail swishing left and right as she ran through the hall, Draco stayed a slight distance behind but followed. As she slammed herself into the heavy door that led out onto the grounds he heard a whimper and worried she’d hurt herself, bolstering him to close the distance and catch her wrist even before she got to the greenhouse.

He pulled her back, right into his chest and wrapped his other arm around to keep her in place. They didn’t have any privacy, out in the open like this, nor much time before breakfast ended and their class began, but he took in the moment. “What’s he done now?” he asked.

“Let go…someone could see…” she huffed through her heavy breaths, trying to slip out of his hold.

“I don’t think so.” He replied, as if she had made it a request. “I’ll have you know I didn’t have anything to do with that article.” –At least this time—“If you were really some casual plaything I would’ve never bothered with flowers. Or your problems with the Weasel.”

She nodded, her forehead rubbing against the silken uniform robe.

“So unless you want someone to see us like this, you better start talking.”

She rolled her eyes despite her lids being firmly shut. Fine. “It’s Lavender. He’s using her.”

Draco scoffed. “I could’ve told you that.”

Her head shot up. “You don’t understand! She has fallen for him. Completely! Head over heels! And he was burning holes into my soul while she purred against his arm….” She shook her head in disgust. “He’s going to break her heart, and then when she finds out why, she’s going to hate me.”

“I thought you didn’t even like her.” He stated, as if that was a defense.

“That’s not the point!” she yelled, pushing on his chest. “He’s not…doing this!” she gestured between the two of them, “Whatever it is you are doing. Which I don’t even know….You …”

He narrowed his gaze at her. “I what, Hermione? You think I’m doing the same?”

“No….” her voice wavered with uncertainty. 

He let go of her. “Just tell me honestly then, that you don’t feel a thing for me. Save me the trouble. Before I make this any worse for either of us.”

Confused, she blinked several times. “Worse? How?”

“By doing this.” He growled, cradling her face in his hands, pressing his lips against hers. She froze initially, but as his mouth moved over hers she tilted her neck and brought her hands up to the expanse of his chest. Her shock, her inexperience left her merely mirroring what he was doing, just a step behind, but she let him take the lead. Ten points to Slytherin easily.

A blissful moment passed before he pulled back, resting his forehead against hers, his hands still cradling her jaw. “If you still feel nothing, then at least I have that.” He sighed with resignation. One conciliation prize, one tangible taste of the forbidden fruit. 

Feel? What exactly am I supposed to be feeling? Other than how I feel like I’m not even standing on the ground, that if I look down this very minute and I would not be shocked to see clouds under my feet?

“I-I thought… You said…” She stopped. She knew she wasn’t even making sense to herself, let alone him. After an exhausting breath she gathered enough to say “I do feel something.”

A smile curled upon his lips. “Something eh? I can at least work with that.”

“Well good.” She replied in shaky voice. “Because that’s all you’re getting for now.” She patted his chest, indicating for him to let her go. Then she fisted a bunch of his robe into her hand with a start as she realized their entire class was walking up to the greenhouse, able to see their very public display.

She instantly let go of his robe and bolted out of his loosened hold and straight into the greenhouse, leaving him with the damage control and both their bags.  
………………………..

Once in the greenhouse Hermione had not more than a minute to compose herself, so of course she panicked and fled into the supply closet to hyperventilate in private. The main door burst open with a cacophony of mixed voices, laughing, gossiping, book bags slamming onto table tops and stools scratching across the floor as bodies hefted into them.

She counted out a cadence, steading her heartbeat, rhythmically breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth. Fifteen seconds of this had finally done the trick, but her hands shook with nervousness that somehow wouldn’t subside. So she did the next best thing and grabbed random items off the shelf and finally shuffled out of the closet as the stragglers crossed the threshold of the door. She plopped the items on the table in front of her chosen seat next to Ginny and sat down, staring blankly wondering how she was going to make sense of them when she felt an elbow poke her ribs.

“Uh?” she responded with a ditzy shake of her head. Ginny was grinning ear to ear, enjoying her flustered friend’s pink face, pointing for her to look behind her. Hermione turned and was met with her bag being suspended in air, controlled perfectly by Draco’s wand. The looks she was getting from his nearby friends varied from amused to annoyed.

She swallowed and took the bag, setting it on the table. “T-thanks.” She managed to croak out, feeling every bit of that frog in her throat.

Ginny leaned over and whispered in her ear, making her groan and slump until her forehead met the desk. She’d seen them right after their kiss, along with half the class as they were making their way up the path.

\--Just kill me now.—  
………………………………..

Luckily Herbology was very hands on that day, with everyone out in the garden cultivating their assigned herbs and plants, and Hermione steered clear of Draco and barely turned her head in his direction as she focused on repotting the baby mandrakes and weeding out the firelilies and the thorny brucklesprouts. 

Their domed blossoms had built up enough condensation that a small but useable sample had collected in the phial underneath the frame supporting it. The liquid was a shimmery opalescence with flecks of crimson crystals floating in its grasp. They both leaned in close to examine it, mesmerized at their new discovery. Hermione was scribbling notes at a furious pace while Draco was calmly sketching the liquid concoction, tapping his quill to make it change the color of ink so he could accurately match.

“What do you think this is going to do?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Haven’t the slightest clue. I’ve never imagined these two being compatible, therefore I have no theories. And this is just by collecting the condensation emitted by their anthers; this isn’t even including pollen samples, crushed petal or leaf extraction and what a boiled bulb will produce. Shame we have to turn in tomorrow when there’s so much more that can be done with them.”

Hermione felt her cheeks rush with heat as he proclaimed his affinity for actually wanting to learn more about what their combined plants could offer. Neither Ron nor Harry had ever expressed so much as even half the excitement at the prospect of learning something on their own. They always grumbled through their assignments and only cheered when the work included Quidditch or DADA. Frankly, it had taken a toll on her tolerance for their lack of appreciation in their education.

“Perhaps we could ask Snape to give us an extension?” she offered brightly. “After all, I’m staying here all holiday. I could gather up other samples and start running diagnostics.” 

He stopped sketching and looked down at her. This brilliant witch with a passion to discover was willing to spend her whole Easter holiday doing extra curriculum just to test theories as if it were nothing more than selecting a dress for afternoon tea. He leaned over just a little, closing the reasonable distance they gave each other while trying to actually work on their assignment.

“I unfortunately have a prior engagement, so I won’t be around to test that out. You think these flowers will be enough to keep you preoccupied?”

She stopped writing and dared a glance around to see if anyone was eavesdropping. Someone probably was, but there was little she could do about that. “I also have…extra lessons from Snape to start on with…so I can assure you, I’ll be quite busy.”

He leaned even closer, his voice at a hush. “What kind of lessons?”

She responded in the same secretive volume. “Occlumens. Help me get control of myself before I burn down the damn school.”

He stifled a chuckle. “And for once, it wouldn’t be Finnigan’s fault.”

“Not funny!” she admonished, pointing a finger at him. But she failed to follow through with that smile faltering on her face.  
………………………..

Three subjects and lunch later they were all lined up on the grounds like they had been in first year, with their first flying lesson. Students who owned their own personal brooms were allowed and encouraged to have them while other students such as herself used a standard issue that Hogwarts provided, a few years outdated but still fully functional.

It made no matter to her whether she had the latest one on the market or a child’s training broom, she would instantly be hit with vertigo and lose all ability to control her magic and maintain levitation. She’d be lucky if she managed to hover two feet off the ground before the panic would start to settle in and she’d make a blunder. This was her worst subject, one of her rational fears in the muggle world and yet she was just supposed to throw caution to the wind and herself literally with it for a grade?

Harry leaned over to her. “Breathe Hermione. I think Madam Pomfrey will blow a gasket if you end up in the infirmary for a third day in a row because you passed out.”

“Not helping.” She gritted through her teeth.

Madam Hooch was walking the line of students, pairing up or even making trios of partners for today’s assignment. What she wanted them to do would require having a spotter. Hermione felt sick already hearing the instructions, wondering if her skin was turning as green as her gut made her feel when Draco purposefully walked over and took up on her right.

With Harry on the left and Draco on the right she felt shorter than she already was, but only slightly more reassured in following through with todays’ lesson.

“You want me to what?” she cried.

“Boys, seeing as you two are Seekers, why don’t you give Miss Granger a demonstration?” she suggested when Hermione blanched at the thought of steering herself into a backwards flip and hovering upside down.

“Now class, only half of you in the air at a time, I don’t need a repeat of yesterday’s dodgeball fiasco and send you all to the infirmary!” she blew her whistle and pointed to random groupings, then with a motion of her hand had the grounded half of her class stand aside.

“Some of you have already perfected this move, especially you Quidditch players, so do your best to help those who are struggling. And girls, transfigure your skirts!” she shouted at a pair who had failed to turn their pleated school skirt into slacks.

Harry and Draco gave each other a silent but well received look as if they were sharing their conversation telepathically and hopped on their brooms and levitated to no more than five feet up in the air—to Hermione’s discomfort—and each performed the backward flip and stayed horizontal for her to visually grasp the concept of the task. She still clutched her broom and struggled to remain poised.

“Come on, we’ll both be here. You can do it.” Harry smiled, his feathery black hair hanging loosely making him look even more like an owl.

“There is no way on God’s green earth that I am going to be able to do that!”

“Technically, you wouldn’t be on the earth-”

“Shut it!” she snipped, pointing at him. He was thoroughly entertained at her frantic behavior. As long as he was in the air, she couldn’t get to him.

Draco pushed Harry, just to make him stop laughing. “Not helping Potter.” He tsked. To his credit, Harry just languidly hung upside down and chuckled as if they were telling jokes over lunch.  
……………………..

On the ground, Ron’s eye began to twitch at seeing Draco act so friendly with HIS best friend, as if suddenly he was now Mr. Wonderful and everything he’d done in the past three and a half years of school meant nothing. He looked over and saw his former cronies Goyle and Crabbe standing with their arms crossed, clearly annoyed and equally as disgusted and betrayed as he felt. Maybe those thick-headed louts needed a new friend…  
………………………..

“Okay, I’ll hold your hand, how about it?” Draco offered. “We’ll go at your pace.” He turned to Harry. “Hey, Owlface, get over here!”

At the new nickname, Harry immediately uprighted his broom and both of them took a position at either side of Hermione. She looked at both of them. “Are you sure?” she quivered.

“Only way you’ll make the grade, come on. We won’t even be up that high.” Harry commented, offering his hand.

“Neither one of us will let you fall. Because I’ll kill him if he does.” Draco said, tossing a steely glance at his dark haired counterpart.

“We really gonna do this here? Now?” Harry shot back.

“No time like the present.”

“Boys.” Hermione called to them, ending their little dispute. “Whatever this is,” she indicated with a wave of her hand, “Can stop. Ok, I’ll take your hands if you both shut up.”  
“Now you’re seeing reason.” Draco teased. She lanced him with a glance before taking the position, and holding the broom, channeling her magic into it. Just a few inches off the ground and she was steeling her nerves as one would when stepping into the seat of a rollercoaster. Her left hand took Harry’s, her right went into Draco’s and she began to slowly rise.

Her whole body shook; there was absolutely no denying it. Her broom started to wobble. Clenching onto the guys’ hands so hard her knuckles were turning white and they were wincing. 

“Calm down love, you’re not even a meter up and we’re already having to compensate.” Harry warned.

“I have quite the perfectly good rational fear of heights and falling to my death, ok?” she hissed at him.

“Must be a muggle thing.” Draco replied in a tone almost akin to his usual smug sneer that he used to throw at them.

“So help me, I will end you if you bring that up.”

“Just saying.” He shrugged, purposefully riling her up. He could feel the surge of magic vibrate through her as she channeled more into the broom and rose higher up. He smirked, the look carrying over to Harry clearly saying ‘I got this’. Harry nodded, catching on.

“I mean, I guess flying comes natural to me, given that my father was also a Seeker. Maybe it really is just set into the muggleborns.”

Hermione swiveled her head over at her best friend, murder in her eyes. “Oh don’t even go there.”

With a little pull, the guys got her to ascend higher until she was at the appropriate height. Once there though, her resolve plummeted and then she nearly did and would have, if not for grasping onto the two of them like a lifeline. 

“Steady now!” Madam Hooch shouted, causing Hermione to come back to her senses.  
……………………..

Ron smirked, watching as Hermione rattled in fear when nothing else in the whole wizarding world phased her. This was child’s play, the most basic skill any witch or wizard could have, and yet this is where the Golden Girl faltered. Pathetic.

“Some excuse for a witch, eh?” he joked, catching the attention of Draco’s henchmen. Goyle nodded, nudging Crabbe beside him who in turn followed with a nod of his own.  
Ron pushed off the wall he was leaning on and came their way, crossed his arms and leaned against the school’s exterior once again. “Seems like we’re all being tossed aside now. Malfoy’s got himself a new plaything. And a Mudblood no less.”

“Wasn’t she your friend?” Greg asked, apparently the more cognitive of the two.

Ron scoffed. “She was.”

He watched as the trio slowly rotated backwards, Hermione firmly gripping the hands of her best friend and boyfriend. The Gryffindor Princess with boys falling at her feet left and right, even her nemesis, whom she easily forgave and yet to him she bared her fangs and brandished her wand. Apparently she felt she was entitled to being a bitch now that she was being courted by someone with thousands of galleons to spare.

His brothers and sister might still buy into her ‘I love everyone equally’ act and Harry was being blind-sided by Malfoy’s new behavior but he wasn’t. You never trusted a snake.   
………………….

Hermione’s nervous laughter ricocheted off the castle wall and back into her own ears. She was actually hanging upside down on a broom! Sure, it was as terrifying as she knew it would be, but it was also oddly exhilarating. Having her hands firmly clasped within two trustworthy flyers also helped. The three of them laughed, the boys mainly responding to her exuberant display of nerves and the bravery to face them, and her jubilation of finally succeeding in a flying assignment.

Today she felt like she’d experienced the wizarding world in a new light, even without Luna’s comment about seeing twinkling wrackspurts floating about her head as they made their way to dinner that evening.   
……………………………


	21. Wingmen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco discovers he has allies as well as saboteurs regarding his relationship with Hermione.  
> Hermione makes a bold move by joining the Slytherins for breakfast.

“Wow mate, you’re really going all in with this, aren’t ya?” Blaise joked as he flopped backwards onto his bed and shucked his shoes off with his feet.

Draco tossed his bag off to the side and gracefully fell onto his bed, face first, reveling in its comfort after two days in the cell. His hand drew lazy comforting circles across the sheets, savoring the familiar sensation. All the while he tried not letting his mind’s eye get lost in those warm brown eyes of a certain Gryffindor.

Theo calmly set his bag down and proceeded to remove his shoes with languid motion, as if he had all the time in the world. Nothing about him was ever rushed. Now that dinner had ended and there were no further dramatic outbursts from the familiar table of attention, the trio retreated to their dorm in peace.

“So what if I am?” the muffled Malfoy voice replied from the confines of his pillow. 

“You know how your father-” the sassy British-Italian started, but was immediately cut off.

Draco’s head shot up. “I don’t give a fuck what my father thinks right now.” The vehemence in his tone left little room to refute. “For once, I just want to do something I want. And I’m gonna have to spend an entire week just nodding and saying ‘yes sir’ to every goddamn thing he has to say, so for once Zabini, shut your hole on the subject of my father and his expectations.”

Blaise and Theo glanced at each other in tight-lipped silence. “Sure Drake, whatever you say.” He replied, lifting his hands in mock surrender.

“I do believe our romantic over here was merely trying to point out that you’ve gone about this rather quickly, and boldly. It’s not exactly a secret anymore.”

The blond sighed. “Ugh, I know! I tried, but every time I’m around her things just escalate. But I’m not stopping, so if either of you has a problem…” he pointed his finger at the two of them with a granite hard stare, daring them to speak their piece.

Blaise chortled. “Oh you have no complaints from me. That game of dodgeball had me seeing her in a new light, well, that and after she dropped your pale ass to your knees-”  
Draco threw his pillow at him to prevent any further comments. He turned to his quiet and thoughtful friend. “And you?”

“She has many fine qualities, and I’m sure it’s come to your attention that others have noticed, so I advise you to not fuck it up. At all. Never mind that she’s friends with Harry Potter, I can see the boys lining up the instant news of you two splitting is made public, even if the Weasley twins were merely playing, you have more than your fair share of potential rivals.”

Blaise took Draco’s moment of contemplation to exact revenge and bludger his face with the pillow. He fell back with a solid ‘ooof’ but stayed on his back as he looked up at his four post canopy and sighed. 

“I wasn’t intending on kissing her today.” He confessed. “But she thought I was playing the same game the Weasley runt is with his current floozy. And I knew if she got it in her head, I’d never have a chance.”

“So you just went right in?” Blaise leaned forward. “Well? How’d she react? I don’t see any slap marks.” He teased, craning his neck around as if to inspect Malfoy’s face.

“She reciprocated accordingly-after all, I did take her by surprise. Then she bolted as soon as she saw you and the rest of class coming up.”

Blaise turned to Theo. “Aren’t they adorable?”

The weedy brunet nodded as he slipped off his tie and began unbuttoning his dress shirt. “Almost disgustingly adorable. But more preferable than Weasley and Brown.”

“I concur.” Blaise acknowledged with a tilt of his head, a purposeful shut of his slanted eyes for added flourish. 

Draco propped himself up on his elbows. “You two are awfully accepting of this.” He said in a curious voice, automatically laced with suspicion.

Blaise shrugged as if it were no big deal. “So what if she’s Gryffindor? Not like inter-house dating isn’t a thing. As for being muggleborn…” he shrugged again. “She’s the top student here, that and how she had the dragon sized balls to talk to Snape like she did was pretty solidifying in her case. I mean damn. She literally said-to his face-that she was better than half the purebloods here.”

Theo continued undressing, humming in agreement. “I’d say there’s a hell of a lot worse you could do, and not much better either. Granted, it’s expected that you end up with either Parkinson or Greengrass, but that’s purely based on blood status and nothing else.”

Uprighting himself, Draco swiveled his head back and forth between his two friends. “You guys used to tease her right along with me…”

“It’s to be expected, but not all sons are like their fathers.” Theo replied sagely. It was a well-known fact that his father was a Death Eater and he did not follow in his father’s footsteps one bit. No, there was an underlying hatred for his father that compelled young Theo Nott to refuse affiliation to any sort of allegiance but his own.

“What he said.” Blaise pointed lazily. “Granted I don’t remember much about my own biological, and I’m currently on stepfather number five…God, aren’t we a lovely bunch of wizards with Daddy Issues?” he chuckled dryly.

“And if I recall, you had already expressed your interest with her before you discovered her blood heritage.” Theo added, folding his clothes neatly and setting them on his trunk for the house elves to collect as he selected his sleepwear. 

“Oh yeah, I nearly forgot that.” Zabini chuckled. “My god Malfoy, you’ve been carrying that candle a few years.”

“Sod off Zabini.” 

Blaise merely chuckled as if he were given a warm compliment, crossing his ankles and shutting his eyes while resting his hands behind his head. Draco slid off his bed and began undressing, flinging his clothes to the floor as he rummaged for his pajamas. Curious how he had never actually had such a serious heart-to-heart with his friends on a subject such as this.

Then again, he’d been honest with Potter when he said his best mates didn’t know everything about him-or so he thought. Now it felt like the opposite was true-he didn’t know his friends as well as he thought he did. And worse of all, he didn’t know who got to Rita to blast them in the paper. He knew there were several Slytherins who didn’t approve-not like they could do anything about it-but someone felt malicious enough to contact that bottom feeding journalist. And he didn’t tell very many people he’d contacted her in the first place.

Tomorrow was their last day before holiday, if he didn’t act on his suspicions it would gnaw at him for the whole week.  
………………………….

Her hair was down again, springy and voluminous as she entered the Great Hall with Ginny at her side. They bumped into Luna Lovegood and invited her to join them after Hermione learned that her fellow Ravenclaws had hidden her shoes again, thus why the poor girl was barefoot.

“It would seem that even the so-called smart ones still resort to childish pranks for entertainment.” She sighed. “And how I used to think I was better suited for that House.”  
“I still think you are.” Ginny said, pulling up her seat to the table. “You’d have conversations more on your level.”

Hermione rocked her head side to side, contemplating and agreeing that while it was true, she doubted she’d still be fulfilled. It wasn’t just intellectual equality she sought, but the persistent challenge to debate, learn, and thrive on a subject or point of view other than her own. The so-called song and dance she accused the Slytherins of constantly doing. Their mindset was intriguing. They had a language of their own.

“What’s she doing here?” Ron’s annoyingly blunt voice resounded in her ears as he approached the table, affronted by the fact a Ravenclaw was dining with them.

“Ron, this is my friend Luna-” Ginny began politely.

“I bloody well know who she is, I’m asking why she’s here and not with her own flock?”

Harry clamped his hand on Ron’s shoulder. “Calm down, it’s not like Padma doesn’t join us for meals every now and then.”

Ron swiveled in his direction. “It’s one thing when they’re bloody twins Harry-but having Looney Lovegood? Might as well be sitting with the first years’ and paint targets on our robes!”

Hermione inhaled sharply at the degrading nickname Looney and the implications that dining with her would somehow tarnish their golden reputation. Ha! If only some of the other houses had a peek behind the Fat Lady’s portrait.

“Luna is welcome to join us, as is anyone. There’s no rule against it. Look around Ron, there are three Ravenclaws at the Slytherin table and two Gryffindors at Hufflepuff. We can eat with whom we want.”

“It’s alright Harry.” Hermione stated softly. “Ron’s just intimidated by smart women. It pricks away at his fragile ego even more.”

Ron immediately flushed red and was about to hurl an insult when Harry clamped a hand over his mouth and held him still.

“Good going Mione.” He dryly commented, struggling to keep Ron contained.

Her honey-brown eyes rolled in a look that gave no room for fucks. Her patience with Ronald Weasley had crested long ago. “That’s fine. I’d rather be anywhere else than here.” She announced, picking up her bag and stepping over the bench.

“You didn’t even eat.” Luna pointed out. Ginny patted her arm with a murmur and shake of her head. Luna pressed no further.

They all watched her disengage from the Gryffindor table, walk the long length of it and come around to the side of the wall, to circle her way down the side of the Slytherin table and approach Malfoy and his two cheekily smiling friends. After a brief moment of conversing, the dark skinned wizard beamed and scooted aside for her.

She was now sitting in between Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy, glaring her umber orbs at none other than Ronald Weasley.  
……………………..

Always hyper aware of her movements, it did not escape his notice when she shoved off the bench from Gryffindor and stormed the entire length of the hallway in what looked to be another hasty retreat, only to rightfully shock him as she approached the Slytherin table, and his friends to boot.

“Excuse me gentlemen,” she greeted formally, ever so eloquent in her speech when addressing another, “You would be so kind as to allow me to sit with you, and make Weasley jealous?”

He smirked at her final words, discretely pushing Blaise so he’d get the hint to move.

“We’d be honored to have the Gryffindor Princess join us.” Blaise smoothly replied as if he were addressing true dignified royalty. He scooted along the bench, indicating that she be settled between himself and Draco, who was hiding his face behind his morning mug of coffee.

A breath of relief escaped her lips as she took place at the Slytherin table. Somehow, sitting here felt…right. Perhaps it was just nearly four years of having the same view and reveling in the novelty of a new vantage point, like one does after rearranging their living room, but she felt a small part of her internally whisper that she was home.

She turned to look at Draco, who was purposefully languishing in the scent of his morning brew. She had no idea what to expect from him, this bold and rash decision, but she had hoped she hadn’t crossed any boundaries of his by addressing his friends rather than him. It was them that worried her, not him. But now, with his silence and almost aloof reaction to her presence, she pondered.

“Keep staring.” He whispered. “Makes me feel like I’m being adored.”

“Oh you git.” She playfully scoffed. “I’m sorry I didn’t consult you.”

“No, I quite like your spontaneity.” He replied, setting his mug down and finally gracing her with his stormy eyes. “I think you just gave the school quite a show.”

Before she could turn and fully take in the enormity of her spur-of-the-moment action, Draco reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, leaning in as he did so. “You’ve become the center of attention, but don’t react to it. Just look at me, and only me.”

She blinked several times as she contemplated his words. She knew he was giving her advice on how to behave, but it also sounded so…seductive. Normally, she wouldn’t have cared for being told what to do-and by him of all people-but now it seemed like the only thing that made sense. She gave a minute nod, blushing as his finger retracted from her ear, along her jaw, down to her chin, his finger lingering at the bottom of her lips.

\--Oh god, is he going to kiss me in front of the entire student body?—

Just as her heart began to beat erratically, there was a sudden boop to her nose, startling her out of the hypnotic trance he’d put her under. She came to and found him smirking like a cream fed cat, his hands back to himself and at his plate.

“Eat up Granger. No more stuffing apples into your bag for later.”

Meanwhile Blaise and Theo were trying to keep their usual mask of indifference after having witnessed such an intimate and gentlemanly gesture from their snarky and abrasive friend who had never given even a Slytherin Pureblood witch a flirtatious wink, let alone obvious display of affection. If either of them had had any doubts as to his intentions with her, well, they were succinctly verified just now. 

It was unfortunate that not every Slytherin was as receptive. That was to be expected of course, since so many of them were raised by purist family traditions and cared not for her magic affinity, in their eyes she was a Mudblood through and through. She was merely Malfoy’s plaything and was tolerated, but only in his presence. It was not difficult at all for Draco to overhear the hushed whispers to his left.

“Daphne, if you grind your teeth any harder you’re going to break them.” Pansy gently stated, delicately cutting a slice of her eggs benedict and placing the tender morsel on her tongue.

The annoyed elder Greengrass sister shot her friend a penetrating stare that would’ve withered a Slytherin of lesser backbone, but not Pansy Parkinson. It was more unsettling to her that the Irish Brit was calm and poised about their table being defiled by the Mudblood’s presence. They spoke in low, hushed, angry tones as they were not seated all that far from the subject of their discussion.

“How can you be so calm about this? The party was one thing-it was secret-but this is a public display!”

Pansy rolled her eyes and released a hefty sigh. She set her silverware down and took in her friends rant with the dignified air of a matriarch. “It’s not worth getting your knickers in a twist. Draco has always done what he’s wanted to do with no regard as to what anyone else thinks. If he wants to play around with her, that’s on him.” 

“Playing around?” Daphne hissed. “It’s one thing to drag her off to a closet and out of sight; it’s another to flaunt her at our very own table. I’m not naïve; I know there’s more going on in the halls between Houses.” She shuddered at the thought. “But our House reputation is being sullied in front of bloody everyone, and you just sit there like it’s no big deal.”

Pansy shrugged indifferently to Daphne’s protests. Truth was, it was no big deal to her. She’d figured out long ago that Draco and her would never be more than just close friends. Sure, she’d been angered by his neglection of her at Yule, but then again, she’d been distracted too with her wandering eyes. But it was the principle of the matter, he’d left her. And that just did not stand. She figured when the golden girl of Gryffindor showed up at the party she’d exact a little payback-and the dare went off without a hitch-but that night was a revelation for her.

While the others were entertained-or annoyed-with Granger’s drunken antics, she’d been paying close attention to Draco. And however good he was at keeping his emotions in check, his face impassive, and his resolve cool at most times, that night he hadn’t. And it was crystal clear that his little Slytherin heart belonged wholly to that Gryffindor swot.   
There had been stolen glances, moments of neither one being accounted for, and those all too close little whispers shared in Herbology. If Draco thought he was being clever, he clearly wasn’t. She’d seen the flowers Granger had in her hair yesterday, she knew what they meant. She’d seen his reaction to her injuries after their harrowing game of dodgeball-granted her own head was splitting with her collision to the ground, but she’d caught a glimpse of Draco at her fallen form. 

So yeah, it was only a matter of time before Granger and Draco made pubic what she already suspected.

Not that she was entirely pleased with his choice of witch—after all, she was muggleborn—but he could certainly do much worse. If this was just a ploy to stick it to his father then he had certainly achieved that. Not only was she Potter’s little muggleborn, but she was rumored to be the love interest of the youngest Weasley and that was just an extra perk. 

“Perhaps it is no big deal Daph.” She concluded, going back to her cooling breakfast and saying nothing further. Not when she was considering her own options that Gryffindor had to offer.  
…………………………….


	22. Potions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Draco present their Potion project to Snape and are granted the use of a personal lab to continue their research .The rest of the class pairs up for an assignment, marking the beginning of several new relationships, good and bad.

“So you’re thinking what, that he’s lashing out at others now to get under your skin?” Draco surmised as she collected the precious vial with their procured sample and tucked it safely into her bag with an unbreakable charm to ensure its safety.

She winced at the thought, leaving Draco satisfied he’d hit the nail on the head. After removing the tube from the bell shaped cloche he carefully lifted the clear dome. He peered into the foggy glass, eyeing their blossoms within. They looked no worse for wear for surviving in their enclosure for nigh on a week.

He set the dome down. “Weasley is a pathetic excuse for a wizard—and that’s not my personal opinion—he is not abiding by traditional rules of conflict. His problem is with me, therefore he should engage with me. But he’s a bloody coward, knowing I’d best him. So he’s taken it out on you, and now, friends of yours.”

She bit her lip. “It’s not just you. He and I have always had our little rows; it was just the foundation of our friendship: little squabbles, followed by apologies and laughs until the next one.” 

“You deserve better than that.”

It was her turn to release a little laugh. “So says my bully of three years.”

“Not anymore.” He clarified, reaching up to toy with a wild curl. He tugged it gently just to watch it spring back. “God your hair is fascinating.”

A hot blush rushed across her face. She stepped back, turning her head to the side to free herself of his all too intimate touch. “Uh…we should get these-this-and go now.”

That playful smirk of his returned. “Oh you afraid I’m going to do something?”

She whirled back at him. “I know for a fact you will.” Her finger pointed up at him. 

He mockingly grasped his chest. “Wound me with your accusations Granger. I thought you knew better than to judge a snake by his scales.”

She squinted her eyes at up at him, annoyed and secretly entertained by his mix of euphemism. “One kiss doesn’t make you my boyfriend Malfoy.” She warned. “Don’t take liberties.” She shooed him back. He obeyed.

“I figured since we had a moment to ourselves that I could at least give you a proper one.” He winked at her. “Knowing I’ll be gone for a week, leave a little something to think fondly on.”

She rolled her eyes at his flagrant attempt to charm her and pushed him back. “Let’s go before Snape deducts points for tardiness.”

He picked up the dome again and led the way out of the greenhouse. She closed the door behind them, but not before a certain beetle flew out and followed them.  
…………………………

Snape stood stoically with one carefully arched brow, arms crossed, as Miss Granger led the way to a cleared off table and began pulling tubes and vials out of her bag. Draco Malfoy followed behind with a glass dome in his hands, walking slow and carefully so as not to disturb the resident inside the jar. They set up their project in silence, working in perfect tandem to each other. His observant eye caught every inflection, their balance of work dynamic. His two top students, practically sharing the same wavelength…

While the rest of the class worked in pairs on an assignment that would need to steep all week over the holiday break, Draco and Hermione presented their work for Snape’s inspection.

He walked silently, slowly, as if to challenge Hermione’s patience with every languid step. She looked neither annoyed nor hostile by his action, but rather relaxed, almost-dare he say-happy? Their notes and sketches rested by the dome, a gentle brush of his fingers swept through them at a glance before meeting their eyes.

“Care to explain what you’ve brought me?” he lazily drawled.

The two students shared a glance, neither spoke. Neither had decided on which would be the one to give the oral presentation. But a second’s hesitation was all it took before Draco took the lead. “Right. Well as you can see, we each have a personal plant in Herbology class that are in fact, opposites in nature.” He motioned to the dome, indicating for their teacher to lift the glass cloche. Snape merely turned his head to acknowledge it was there but nothing more.

Hermione inhaled her patience and stepped forward, lifting the foggy glass structure, revealing the damp and pungent blossoms unfurling their leaves and bristling with the introduction of fresh air. 

“As you can see, each plant emits their own atmospheric, temperature based pheromones that once collected as condensation, produced this.” Draco lifted up the thin vial.  
“It’s the only sample we have, purely concentrated from just that form of extraction.” She piped in.

The professor held up the vial, peering into the ethereal mixture within. “Have you tested this?”

They shook their heads in unison. “With such a small supply, and the timeframe, we simply couldn’t.” Draco answered.

“Which is why I’d like to request an extension-” she began.

“Not now Granger.” He chided, feeling it too soon for her to approach that part.

She shot him a look before turning back to Snape. “As I was saying, Sir, I’d like to use this week to gather more samples and the use of a lab so we may actually run some variables and see what it is we’ve discovered.”

Snape pressed his fingers together. “Have you forgotten you have lessons with me this week?”

She shook her head. “Course not. But surely an hour a day tending to a handful of plants won’t cut in too much.”

Severus Snape looked down at the swotty brunette with a judgmental eye. “Tell me Miss Granger, have you already calculated every day of your intended Easter holiday down to the very hour?” His joke earned a few snickers from eavesdroppers.

She shrugged in a nonchalant manner. “Maybe.”

Draco resisted the urge to slap his forehead. “Sir, it was my idea that got her fixated on that little endeavor-”

“Hush Malfoy.” The potioneer ordered. “Seeing as this assignment is only half completed, I will award only half the amount on points. If you wish to spend your holiday by doing more research you are welcome to it-as long-” he held up a pointed finger to silence her before she could say anything, “That it does not cut into your lessons with me.”  
She nodded with acquiescence. “Thank you Professor Snape.”

He tented his fingers together. “It seems that perhaps not all legends are pure fantasy, now are they Miss Granger?” He waited a beat for her to respond, which she had none. “Twelve points each to Gryffindor and Slytherin. Get on with your assignment like the rest of the class.”  
……………………..

While his pair of Fourth Year star pupils were off gathering their special project from the Herbology greenhouse, Snape called attention to class and began instructing them for the assignment that would need to steep all week until completion.

“Pair up, and pick someone not of your House. Someone you haven’t worked with before.” He ordered, much to the surprise of his students. Then again, if Granger and Malfoy could work together than everyone else could prove so too.

The Slytherins and Gryffindors eyed each other with suspicion, hesitant at first until Neville Longbottom was the first to make a move, using every ounce of that lion bravery to approach Pansy Parkinson.

“Miss Parkinson…” he slowly enunciated, hoping to Merlin that he didn’t stutter, “Would you…?”

“Sure.” She said quickly, cutting him off. “No need to be nervous, I won’t bite.”

Those who had attended the party giggled at the joke.

Ron shot a glance at Harry, seeing as they were unable to partner up, he grimaced at the choices he did have. There were plenty of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs to pair with but he astonished Harry by going to Gregory Goyle. Harry sighed, the choices didn’t look good, he hadn’t made too many friends outside of his own house and he knew Padma was still sore over his inattentiveness during Yule and he didn’t blame her. But by the powers that be, Theodore Nott strolled up to his desk.

“You mind Bright Eyes?” the skinny Slytherin brunet asked in a mocking tone, gesturing to the seat.

Harry inhaled, welcoming him with an open hand towards the spot. “All yours.”

“Is that so?” Theo replied with an arched brow. 

Lavender was quite upset that she wasn’t able to work with Ron or Parvati but took up with the next best thing-the Ravenclaw twin Padma-and made a poorly placed joke about one was just as good as the other, leaving Padma to shoot her an icy glare and recoil from her attempted hug.

Bosom buddies Dean and Seamus had to split, one unfortunately pairing with Crabbe and the other with Hannah Abbot. Susan Bones paired with Daphne Greengrass, Justin Finch-Fletchley took up with Terry Boot, Blaise slid up to Parvati while Millicent tapped Mandy Brocklehurst on the shoulder with a wordless request. Tracey saddled up with Anthony Goldstein-who she thought was pretty cute-leaving Michael Corner with Ernie Macmillan.

The majority seemed happy with their partner, but Snape gave no inclination to anyone’s distress and pointed his wand at the blackboard, scribing the potion they were assigned. Books were flipped open, cauldrons were brought out, and ingredients collected. Class was in full swing with the preparation of herbs when Hermione and Draco returned.  
…………………………..

Pansy was taken in by surprise that shy; nervous, baby-faced Neville Longbottom not only was the first Gryffindor to move away from his pride of lions, but that he bee-lined straight towards her. It took everything she had to remain calm and bored in appearance until the poor thing nearly stuttered himself senseless so she put him out of his misery with a quick response. 

Goodness, that gentle nature of his was endearing. There was no posturing, swagger, or boastful behavior from this particular lion with an affinity for plants. The favorite of Hufflepuff head of house: Pamona Sprout. He who barely raised his voice and blended into the background, the introvert who lagged meters behind the gaggle of friends in the halls or the courtyard, the ever respectful to every professor Gryffindor that had somehow caught her eye during Yule and had never left it.

He was now lanky, caught in between losing that baby fat cuteness he had and blossoming into something more firm and robust. If he played Quidditch at all, he’d have toned up like Malfoy did, hell even Potter and the Weasel had too. But Quidditch brought on egos, and Pansy had enough of wizards with ego. Perhaps Draco had done her a favor after all, dashing off to chase his folly, leaving her to sit and smile and pretend she was having fun while all the while her eyes roamed the Great Hall and settled on him.

Had she known Malfoy chased after a skirt, she would immediately crossed the way to him and pulled him onto the dancefloor. He would’ve been nervous to touch her, probably would’ve stepped on her feet half a dozen times, perhaps missed the tempo and apologized the entire time, but it would’ve been far more fun than how her night actually played out.

And now he had been the one to cross the room and come to her. And was methodically chopping/crushing/roasting ingredients for their assignment as she stirred. She felt heat rise in her pale cheeks which could be easily explained by the proximity of her and the cauldron she leaned over. All the while, she wondered what she could possibly talk about with him, given this golden opportunity.

“Longbottom,” she cleared her throat, “How do you normally spend your holiday?”

“Oh, I uh….well, I usually see my Gran, especially for Christmas. Given that we had the ball I didn’t, Gran insisted I experience one. Probably the only one I’ll ever go to….” He lamented, then shook his head, realizing he’d not answered her question and rambled on. “Oh, well, I’m going home. Just Gran and I and all the sweets she makes.”

Pansy scrunched her lips to hide her disappointment. “Oh. Well, it is nice that you’ll be seeing her. You speak fondly of her; she must be a sweet lady.”

He smiled, scraping the cutting board into the cauldron. “She’s the best. Been raising me on her own. She always goes overboard with the goods; I bring back loads to share. I could bring something back if you like.”

Her hand stopped stirring, the long spoon clanking against the cauldron catching her in the moment and bringing her back. “Oh that’s kind of you. I would love to try some of your grandmother’s cooking.”

“Sure thing Miss Parkinson.”

She let out a giggle before she could help it. “Come now, call me Pansy. No need for formalities between potioneers.” She shooed away a bright green beetle.  
“P-Pansy.” He sounded out on his tongue clumsily but in adorable fashion.  
……………………….

Theodore Nott was perfectly fine at potions, it wouldn’t have mattered whom he paired with, he was confident in his skill and attention to detail in order to ensure a proper brew. Seeing as how he couldn’t pair with another Slytherin or even a familiar Ravenclaw, he figured he’d sate his curiosity about the lead rival of Slytherin and partner up with Potter himself.

It amused him, seeing the surprised bright green eyes blink behind their lenses at his request, as if Harry never expected anyone to come to him. Perhaps for all his fame, he was actually pretty humble underneath it all. That or a complete dolt. After collecting their cauldron and setting up their flame, he addressed the Boy Wonder.

“How good are you at this, when you’re not leaning on Granger for support?” his bluntness was softened only by his inquisitive tone.

“Bloody rubbish.” Potter answered honestly, raking a hand through his raven hair. “I’d say I get it right half the time.”

Theo chuckled in his throat. “Well then, I suppose you won’t mind me teaching you a thing or two? Because you’re chopping those in too big of chunks. They won’t dissolve properly and will stick to the bottom of the cauldron instead.” He pointed.

Harry hung his head. “See? Rubbish, and we just started.”

“Now now, it’s not the dawning of Ragnarok, we can salvage that.” Theo slid over and peered over Harry’s shoulder. He brought his right arm up parallel to Harry’s and steadied the knife in his hand. After Harry had the hilt he picked up one of the haphazardly cut pieces and drew a line down the middle of it with his finger. “Split this one in half, it’s far too large. We want the stalks to dissolve slowly over a week, but they must all be uniform in size.”

Harry nodded, concentrating on making every incision evenly. The more Theo spoke and instructed, the more he reminded him of Hermione-but in a good way, not that he’d believe Theo would ever believe that. The wiry thin Slytherin scooted back to his place at the cauldron, sprinkling in the dried and crushed petals, taking in their fragrance as he did. It was one of his favorite things about potioneering, the birth of a new scent to his nostrils, the melodious mix of the crackling flame and bubbling liquids, and the hypnotic blending of colors as the concoction brewed on. It was Art.

“Wow, I’m actually kinda glad you picked me for your partner.” Harry laughed once he saw the drastic change in their potion and how Theo gazed at it with pride. “I suppose I could learn a thing or two, that is, if you don’t mind…”

Theo Nott turned and met a pair of vibrant green eyes, the most intense emerald pair he’d ever seen, far outshining his own olive hued orbs. It was absolutely sinful how alluring this Gryffindor half-blood looked. Raven hair and green eyes? He’d look amazing in Slytherin robes.

“Well Potter,” he chuckled in his throat, “I’d be happy to tutor you over the holiday, if you’re available…”

Harry couldn’t believe his luck. An accomplished potioneer—and a Slytherin to boot—willing to give him some pointers and help his grade? He glanced over to where Hermione and Draco were working on their very same potion, moving effortlessly around each other as if in a dance. If she could find the worst example of bigoted, entitled and self-centered Slytherins in the school and turn him into a friend, then he could do the same with Nott. Especially since he felt his bond with Ron fraying more and more to a near breaking point.

With Hermione’s secret tutoring sessions planned with Snape and the extra work she just tacked on with procuring her own lab, he realized he wouldn’t be spending nearly as much time with her as he thought. Perhaps this offer is just what he needed. 

“Yeah sure, why Nott?” he laughed at his own joke, eliciting one from Theo as well.

“Oh you think you’re funny?” the brunet replied with a flashy smile. Perhaps picking Potter hadn’t been such a bad idea after all….  
……………………………..

“I’m trusting you’ll check in on this during the week?” Draco asked as he took over the stirring.

Hermione scoffed. “Don’t trust my potioneering abilities?”

“Well, it is one thing I can claim that I do better than you, besides fly a broom.” He teased, earning him a smack to the arm not circling the cauldron. “Oooh, little lioness has claws.” He whispered in a snarky tone, egging her to lash out again. She did not rise to the bait.

“Oh let’s see, I’m sure I can squeeze it in my schedule somewhere.” she laughed. She’d never once poked at herself in reference to a joke made on her behalf by another, but she had to admit, their potion professor was not far off the mark about her scheduling her holiday.

She looked around the classroom at the pairs in at their own tables, over their own cauldrons. It was obvious that Tracey was fawning over Anthony, her doe eyes and giggles all too evident. She was not entirely surprised that Neville and Pansy paired up as both were highly proficient in Herbology. She’d bet a galleon that they were probably discussing that class as they worked. A turn of her head had her scrutinizing Theodore Nott’s attentive instructions to a hapless Harry but often recalled how she had to pretty much take him in hand as well when walking him through their assignments. It seemed Theo had quickly discovered that method was needed as well.

What unnerved her most was Ron’s potion partner. Surely, there was not a Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff that he could’ve paired with, even if he had to leap over a table and grab one of them before having no other option than a Slytherin. And one of Draco’s henchmen no less. She elbowed Draco to draw his attention.

“They probably were the last ones standing after everyone else paired up.” Draco shrugged. “Honestly, it would do the Weasel some good to have to be the one carrying his team for once, as Goyle is an absolute clod when it comes to measuring.”

Hermione couldn’t shake the feeling that her former friend’s hushed conversation with the bully seemed odd, granted yes, they had to work with each other but they were saying more than just instructions. She shook her head, trying to erase such thoughts like an Etch-A-Sketch and focused back on her notes. It wasn’t any business of hers what Ronald Weasley was up to just as long as he wasn’t in her face or picking on those she cared about. She flicked away an annoying shiny green beetle as she set to describing the color and consistency of their potion, matching it just as the textbook described. It’d be a guaranteed O for sure.  
…………………………


	23. Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts students go their separate ways for the Easter holiday, with Draco heading back to Malfoy Manor and Hermione beginning her Occlumency training with Snape. Harry entertains the idea of friendship with another Slytherin over potion brewing and the Weasley’s head to the Burrow for family time.

FRIDAY EVENING, April 1st 1995

In the solitude of the wee hours of the evening, sure that his roommates were asleep, Draco summoned Dobby and placed a silencing charm over his bed to ensure a private conversation. The faithful house elf appeared and for a moment, it was as if Draco was twelve years old again, staying up late with none other than his friend and soundboard, Dobby.

It surprised him how overcome he was to see the familiar face, and how he immediately went in for a hug to the little creature. Dobby in kind returned the hug, all things in the past forgiven.

“Dobby, it’s good to see you. Potter tells me you’ve been well.”

“Oh aye Young Malfoy, Dobby has many friends here at the castle.”

“Call me Draco, I’m not your master anymore.” He corrected as they pulled from the embrace. “Has he told you what we’re going to do?”

The little elf shook his head. He respected that of Harry, he had to admit, he knew when there was a time that he didn’t need to delegate orders. Draco inhaled a steadying breath. “Dobby, I need your help in searching the Manor for evidence that my father is going to cause harm to Harry. Papers, weapons, something we can bring to Dumbledore. Father is scheming again and I cannot risk getting caught, so anything you find, you immediately bring back here. Harry’s going to be here all through the holiday so go to him and do not return to the Manor unless I summon for you. Do you understand?”

Dobby’s already large bulbous eyes widened at the thought of dear Harry Potter being hurt again, and his stalwart loyalty to his rescuer would no doubt ensure he paid very close attention to these orders and requests given to him, even if he was no longer magically bound to the Malfoy bloodline.

“None shall hurt Harry Potter.” Dobby declared. “Now that Harry and Draco are best friends.”

Draco held his hands out. “Whoa there, I never said we were best friends.” He tried clarifying, but since he didn’t want to break his former house elf’s heart, he elaborated. “We’ve only just begun. We agreed not to fight anymore.”

Dobby’s smile was unfailingly heart-warming at this and Draco just didn’t have it in him to pop that pretty little bubble the elf had conjured of them. They were a long ways from being best friends-even if they got to that level at all.  
………………………….

SATURDAY, April 2nd

Morning in the Great Hall was a mellow affair, quieter and oddly busier as students from all houses were saying their holiday farewells to their friends and inhaling their breakfast in order to make it to the Express to take them back to their homes, while others procuring the use of Floo Powder and Portkeys to take them to prearranged destinations to meet families on vacation.

All four Weasley’s were rounded up by their arrogant elder brother Percy and instructed to hurry with their meal and farewells, leaving them to roll their eyes as soon as his back was turned. The twins of course, were causing subtle mischief while Ron was uncharacteristically quiet and Ginny a flurry of emotions over not having her besties by her side.  
“It’s for the best.” Hermione whispered as they hugged. “I’ve already got myself a full schedule anyways. Give my love to your parents.”

Fred and George took turns ruffling Harry’s hair and acting dramatic, as if they wouldn’t see each other again. Ron rolled his eyes. “It’s a bloody week, not the whole damn summer.” He scoffed at their fun.

Ginny approached Luna, sitting mostly by herself at her Ravenclaw table. “Will you be alright on your own?”

“It would not be my first Easter with less company.” She replied. “The hollow halls shall be filled with the turn of a page and a passing footfall. I will not be alone.”

Ginny smiled at her poetically misunderstood friend. If one just opened their mind a little further, they’d have no trouble deciphering her riddle-like speech. She was surprised that the so-called “smart” Ravenclaws would look at her blankly. She regretted not inviting her along to the Burrow in Hermione’s place, but given Ron’s sourpuss attitude lately, she didn’t want Luna subjected to a more concentrated brunt of it.

“Alright you two, stay out of trouble.” George warned, pointing a finger at Harry and Hermione.

“And if you’re going to do trouble, don’t get caught.” Fred laughed, clapping his twin on the back.

Hermione crossed her arms. These two clowns…She rolled her eyes dramatically as they pushed Ron along and began making their way out of the Great Hall. Her gaze fell upon Neville waving goodbye to Pansy-who in return wiggled her fingers delicately, sending a flush across his face. Well, that was certainly an unexpected development! She blinked back her shock as Pansy turned around and gave Malfoy a friendly shove telling him to give his mother her regards before joining some of her girlfriends at their table.

At the jostled push, Draco stopped to regain his balance, his eye meeting hers. There was intensity to his gaze that unsettled her. The moment was interrupted with a shoulder nudge from Harry. “Why don’t you just go say bye to him?” he asked.

“Because I’m sure the very act of me walking over there will cause another stir.” She gritted back, eyes still caught in that grey gaze that held her in parting on Christmas evening.

“He’s staring pretty hard; he might have something to say.”

“We already talked. I don’t think we need a sappy goodbye.” She crossed her arms. “It’s just a week and I’ve got work to do.”

“God you’re stubborn.” He said, as if that revelation was somehow newly discovered. “Just trying to help out, but noooo.” He drawled, sauntering away, leaving her to heave a sigh and turn her head but he was already heading off to do Godric knows what with his free time. When she turned her head back, Draco was gone.  
………………………….

Draco made the usual talk with Theo and Blaise about their holiday plans. Theo was staying at Hogwarts, mentioning a potion project he was going to work on which earned him a tease that he sounded too much like a certain Gryffindor who just accumulated more work for herself. Theo took it in stride and shot back that at least he wasn’t going to be stuck at home or deal with a stepfather that insisted on being called “Dad”.

Blaise scowled at that jab, effectively shutting him up. He’d already bent their ears about his trip to the Alps with his mother and Contestant #5 for the past few days. Draco conceded the point to Theo for finally ending the debacle. In the Great Hall, he saw the girlish, delicate wave Pansy aimed at Neville Longbottom on his departure and considered that pairing for a moment. Not even aware that Longbottom blipped her radar, he was at least glad for it. She’d moved on from trying to be his girlfriend and at least had her eyes on another sacred 28 of potential companions. Hell, even if they just stayed friends it wouldn’t matter, that was one Slytherin witch off his back.

Speaking of witch, he felt a pang in his chest as Hermione’s eyes locked with his. He couldn’t decipher her facial expression as it appeared to be a mixture of annoyance and longing—for him?—and he wished she’d just come his way so they could have parting words; settle the twist in his stomach. It wasn’t like him to feel such trepidation at the prospect of being home for the holiday, but he was on a mission. 

Had Harry even told her yet? Was that the cause of look on her face? He didn’t have time to dally, if it was one thing ingrained upon him in his childhood that he took seriously, it was being punctual and upholding his word. And his father would not let him hear the end of it if he was tardy. So he trudged along with the unsettled nausea in his gut, just hoping her week of Occlumency lessons with Snape would go smoother than having to snoop around his own home like a spy.  
…………………………

Keeping to her already pre-arranged schedule, Hermione slipped into the Hufflepuff greenhouse to collect more supplies. She was going to need at least three more sets of Fairy Snowdrop and Dragon’s Breath blossoms, pots, soil, a weeks’ worth of collected rainwater to hydrate them and special domes to keep each pair separate for their individual testing. With a basket on her arm she walked through the plant nursery as if strolling the supermarket for junk food.

Obviously, being the child of two dentists, junk food was a taboo. Store bought sweets were against house rules, as was Halloween candy-without first being inspected and mostly given away. Her teeth were routinely cleaned and checked, more than any other kid she knew in school. At least every school photo was a smiling masterpiece.  
“Shopping?” a curiously playful voice interrupted her thoughts.

She whirled around, not used to it being addressed to her in such a friendly way until recently. “Theo! You startled me.”

“Obviously.” He chuckled with a shrug. “You looked like a witch in Honeydukes.”

She smiled. “I was actually ruminating on that same thought pattern.”

He stepped in and selected a bag of dried frettle-nettles before peeking at her basket. “Preparing your lab?”

She nodded. “And you?”

He took down a bottle of pickled witch hazel and Shrivelfigs. “I guess you could say, I picked up a little extra curriculum for myself. I offered to tutor that green-eyed friend of yours in a little potion knowhow.”

An arched eyebrow of skepticism was his reaction from her.

“What?” he laughed. “Don’t look at me like I’m stealing him away. Poor thing was floundering without his lifesaver to fall back on. If he ever wants Snape off his arse, he’s got to pull his own out of the cauldron.”

She half-smiled and tucked some hair behind her ear. “True, I usually have to walk him through every potion step-by-step. It’d be a nice change of pace to not have to-”

“Mother him?” he finished for her.

She grimaced at the unspoken truth and continued collecting her supplies. A simple shrink spell took care of the cloche domes she required, as well as other tools.

“You’re staring.” She stated, eyes focused on the glassware in front of her.

“Merely observing.” He corrected. “You have wonderful facial structure.” He leaned in, “And lovely eyelashes. I think I’m beginning to see why he stares so much.”

She whipped her head back. “Beg pardon?”

Theo looked at her, not with a lecherous eye, but of one taking in a subject artistically. He saw beautiful symmetry and pleasing features, not to mention the wild mane which never looked the same way twice. “It’s a shame you’re not taking the Arts class, but then again, art isn’t a magic based skill. You would make a wonderful model in the study of anatomy.”

Her brow furrowed. “Is this a compliment?”

He let out a laugh. “Did I sound disparaging? I surely hope not. I couldn’t help but notice the brightness of Potter’s eyes, how they gleam like cut emeralds. Your own have a swirl of gold in them, like honey in the sunlight. Almost like amber. I’ve seen some of his sketches of you, and talented as he is, they don’t do you justice.”

She nearly dropped her basket.

“Say what?”

Theo covered his mouth. “Oops, I don’t think I was supposed to say that.” He chuckled mischievously. “I wonder if he left his sketchbook behind…”

“Wait a minute there Theodore Nott.” She ordered, holding a hand out to prevent him from walking away. “Are you telling me that Draco has drawn pictures of me?”

“Catching on.” He replied. “Have you got all you need? I’ll walk with you to your lab.” He offered.

She felt floored. Not only was this the most civil conversation she’d had with a Slytherin other than Draco, but the revelations she’d just encountered were staggering. Firstly, she didn’t even know that Draco nor Theo drew or had any appreciation for art. It only dawned on her that yesterday he’d taken his Color-Quill and parchment and drew their plants and an up close image of the sample they’d collected, but she figured the quill was doing the work, not him actually. She’d been so focused on her notes that she’d barely glimpsed the sketches before they were rolled up and handed to Snape. 

After procuring the other flower specimens, she locked up and began her trek back inside the castle with the unlikeliest of companions. She firstly needed to go to the Potions classroom for vials and a small cauldron for brewing the bulbs. Theo tagged along as he had nothing better to do. They entered the empty room only to be met with their professor waving his wand and cleaning shelves while humming.

Upon the intrusion, silence filled the air.

“Sorry…” she hesitantly pleaded, “Just getting a few things before our lesson…”

She made haste in grabbing what she needed and pointed at a few items for Theo to grab, making a quick exit while feeling the dark eyes of their professor on her back the whole while.

“That. Was. Awkward.” Theo exclaimed with a breathless laugh as they made their way up a few floors to an empty classroom that had been sanctioned for her use. It was small, dusty, and sparsely furnished. With a pull of the musty curtain the room was bathed in light.

“Perfect!” she happily whispered as Theo sneezed.

“Oh sure it is.” He gagged, waving a hand. “Great Merlin, how long has it been since this room was in use?”

She shrugged, setting her basket down. “Well Theo you have a choice, either stay and help spruce up or jog on, because I’ve got to get started.”

“Bossy.” He replied with a sassy hiss. “He likes that too.”

“Did he send you to keep tabs on me or something?” she joked, rolling up the sleeves of her simple shirt and aiming her wand at the cobwebs. “Tell you to plants seeds of admiration in my ear?”

Theo crossed his arms and leaned against the table. “Possessing suspicion and scrutiny… how very Slytherin of you. I always said you were mis-sorted.” He could practically hear her eyes roll as she tossed her head back and continued on with the dust and filth accumulated on the window. “You’re far too cunning and ambitious for Gryffindor, I suppose those massive dragon balls you have the gall to use is what got you there.”

“Point?” she inquired in an annoyed, singsong voice.

“Point is… Draco has his work cut out for him if he thinks apology flowers are going to cut it. What’d he finally do to turn you ‘round anyways?”

She bit her lip. Honestly, she couldn’t quite say, now that she had several moments to think on. She aimed her wand at the floor, the dust and grime clearing themselves free of the boards, revealing beautifully aged wood. “Well, I suppose it started after my row with Ron. I needed air, went out on the grounds one night to just sit it out…and suddenly, he was there. At first I thought he was just gonna tease me, everyone calling me Hurricane Hermione and whatnot…but he sat with me, ate with me. And we talked.”

“Talked eh?” Olive eyes squinted with amusement. 

“Yes Theo, talked.” She scoffed. “It was very strained at first. We did squabble a bit, about Ron of course….it’s how it all got started I suppose.”

“Lucky break for him then, you two having something in common to agree on. Ronald Weasley is a git. Course, we’ve known that for a while.” He lazily drew his wand and aimed it at the decrepit bookshelf. “Repairo!”

Her shoulders slumped. Yeah, Weasley is a git. Had been since day one, and yet she had stayed by his side for three and a half years, thinking that maybe for once, he’d finally see her for more than the correct answer to a problem. See her as something more than a friend. See her as something more than a last resort to attend the ball with.

Theo must’ve sensed the tender nerve he touched, for he backed off the subject quickly. “So, these lessons with Snape…you’re not struggling with potions in any manner, so what are they?”

Her hesitation to answer only spurred him on. 

“Look, I know about the wandless incantations.” he sighed. “Your fellow housemates couldn’t shut up about the storm you whipped up in the common room, and I saw the fireballs at breakfast and what you did with your tie. It’s not hard when you pay attention.”

She set her wand down and started taking items out of the basket, placing them out just so in an orderly fashion. “I guess there’s no hiding it then. I’m surprised Draco didn’t tell you. But yes, I accidently tapped into that and I’ve been struggling to remain in control, so Snape says I need Occlumency. Doesn’t help when Ron is starting conflict…” she inhaled the anger that just saying his name brought. “I could’ve killed him, on accident, and that’s not something I want on my conscience.”

The Slytherin nodded. That particular game of dodgeball was…intense for lack of a better word. He’d been held in awe of her bravery and skill on the field, her lack of self-preservation in the thick of it, no hesitation—except for when she and Draco faced off—and how quick she was to sacrifice her own articles of clothing to land an attack. He watched as she lined up the plants, labeled them under what test was going to be conducted, and arranged the equipment off to the side. She was methodical and precise in her administration of water, soil and how much light they would receive in their position on the table.

“Right then, well I’m off. Don’t be late to Snape’s lesson.” He said after a moment of silence from her as she delved into her work. She responded with a nod and a simple ‘mm hmm’ as the quill scribbled in her heavy handed graphology.  
……………………………

Molly and Arthur Weasley were of course thrilled to have their children return for the holiday, but had not been informed until nearly the last minute that neither Harry nor Hermione would be attending. Ginny didn’t want to turn her letter into a tattletale rant about Ron’s attitude as of late, so she chalked up that Hermione had taken on some extra curriculum and Harry stayed to keep her company. Weak but effective given their nature, neither parent pressed upon it further.

Their faces though, held just the slightest twinge of longing for their unofficially adopted children, perhaps in the hope that they’d change their mind and Hermione would just figure a way to bring her work with her.

After being enveloped in hugs and kisses and the usual barrage of questions, it felt good to be home. Same as always, the sights and smells and sounds. Maybe a little exposure to all this would do Ron some good and all would be better when they returned.  
………………………..

Malfoys did not make small talk. It was either you had something important to say or you remained silent, gauging what others spoke of. So, after the very poignant line of neutral questioning of grades, Quidditch and possible courtships, the Malfoy trio sat in silence as their carriage strolled through Wizarding London.

“Do tell us about the Yule ball.” Narcissa declared after some length of time.

“Did he not write about it months ago?” Lucius quipped in an annoyed tone. Surely the conversation didn’t need revising.

“Oh Lucius, you know as well as I that there is a world of difference between describing it in person and on parchment.”

Lucius exhaled, the point made and permission granted.

Draco straightened—if he wasn’t already sitting straight to attention anyway—and cleared his throat. He went on to describe the winter wonderland décor, the enchanted snow falling from the ceiling, the splendid catering and music.

Narcissa encroached on dangerous territory by asking about the Tri-wizard Champions and their dates, causing Draco to slip out of his nonchalant candor and give pause. Lucius glared at him. “Well, answer your mother.” He ordered.

“Forgive me, but I do not believe you wish to hear of Potter and his date.” He truthfully excused. “He escorted one of the Patil twins, Weasley had the other. Krum asked…the…Mudblood.” He choked on the word before rushing the end of by mentioning Fleur danced with Bill Weasley and Cedric Diggory was with his Ravenclaw girlfriend.

“Fucking disgraceful.” Lucius snarled in disgust. “Weasley’s and Mudbloods parading around like Pureblood society?”

Narcissa tsked right along after her husband’s barely contained outburst. “Well, at least you had a memorable night with Miss Parkinson.”

Draco nodded with a small but audible affirmation. To be honest, he couldn’t even recall what color dress she wore that night. Not when-

He suddenly stopped his train of thought before it carried over too far. It had lapsed his memory that his father, well his bloodline was naturally adept in Legilimens and his mental wall could be breached in any given second if he lost concentration. He fortified the mental chest in which he locked away he secret thoughts regarding Hermione and took on the face of indifference for the remainder of their journey.

Arriving at Malfoy Manor would give any lesser wizard and muggle alike a sudden pause to stare in awe, taking in the grandeur and opulence before them. To him, it was just home. Pristine and gleaming like a palace, well-manicured lawn with perfectly blossoming roses and perfectly placed trees for balance and privacy. Peacocks strutting at their own pace, the fountain trickling its steady stream of water, the stone pathway perfectly polished and cut to prevent any risk of tripping on uneven shapes. The wards guarding this ancestral home were powerful and of ancient protection magic that could kill a troll. It was a perfectly safe place to be from the outside world, and a prison within when Lucius’s dark moods took over.

As long as Draco kept his head down—figuratively—and complied, he would not incur his father’s wrath. Granted, that might be difficult if any Death Eaters showed up. Given that it was a holiday and his mother was known for throwing extravagant galas as well as small social gatherings with their nearest and dearest, he wouldn’t be surprised if that was the ruse to incorporate more in. While the ladies sip tea in the garden, the men would be inside, plotting the Dark Lord’s return….

And that would be tomorrow.  
………………………….


	24. Occlumency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione’s Easter week of lessons with Snape. She doesn’t know what to expect, but she knows he won’t be going easy on her.

After her conversation with Theodore Nott, which left with more questions than she had even begun to formulate in her mind, she spent her scheduled hour prepping the lab for use. The room certainly could use more accommodations, but for now its rudimentary function was fine enough. The light from the window would give the plants at best, eight hours of daylight-more than she could hope for without having to use enchantments-and variable moonlight. She’d have to consult her star charts from Astronomy Class.

She doubted exposure to either source of light was detrimental to the flora but she wasn’t one take chances, especially when a grade hung in the balance. Everything must be precise and kept under control so they would have untampered specimens to cultivate their samples as purely as possible. Pleased with her set up, she wiped her hands on her jeans and closed up the room, locking the door afterwards. She thrilled with the excitement of starting a new project with unknown results ahead and partially wished Malfoy was here to share it with. She’d make sure to show him this obscure and out of the way room upon his return and gage his reaction.

It was now time to meet with He-Who-Hums-While-Cleaning and part of her stomach sank with the realization that she’d have to endure that brooding, judging gaze of his for however long this would take. Potions was located in the Dungeons of the castle, along with the Slytherin dorms and detention cells-now that she knew where to go to find them, they weren’t all that far-and thus the class was windowless and dark most of the time. All available walls were lined in shelves containing a menagerie of bottles with their mysterious concoctions within, a rainbow of liquids with aged labels. Jars of dried herbs and pickled plants aligned another shelf. Ingredients for potions varied, sometimes requiring fresh, roasted, dried, burnt, crushed, brined, or marinated flowers and even animal parts.

She was never comfortable with a brew that required blood of any sort. Thankfully, there were not very many in the Fourth Year’s required curriculum. The first ever potion they were assigned to make that required blood-a drop of their own-was a blood purity testing potion. It made her squirm as Snape walked past every vial set before him, holding it up to the light hanging from the ceiling, making biting remarks that were aimed at Muggleborns like herself.

She pushed the unpleasant memory away as she approached the double doors and stepped into the dim room. In the second it took for her eyes to adjust she felt like she was being watched and it set her hairs on end. She immediately began reaching for her wand as the presence felt closer. It was definitely not a ghost, and it surely couldn’t be Harry hiding under his Invisibility cloak—especially in THIS classroom—but it felt dangerous nonetheless. She braced her body for an ambush, her magic tingling in her fingertips as the adrenaline coursed through.

Then came a push, from an unknown direction, an uncomfortable pressure in her head like the building of a migraine, making her knees crumble as she prepared a spell on her lips, she was immobilized by a faster incantation.

The darkly clad figure of the potion master emerged from a dim corner of his room, revealing a calm demeanor with his wand pointed at her. Realizing she was being held captive by his spell and not some unknown was only marginally more comforting until he addressed her. “Your reflex was slow, but you were cognitive. But rather than attack blindly you took in your surroundings. I expected nothing less. Do refrain from hexing me when I release you.”

She couldn’t nod but knowing the disadvantage she was at, if the professor wanted to jinx her cruelly he could do so. A moment of silence passed before he freed her. Her body gave a small jerk as she righted herself, fist clenched around the vinewood wand as she watched him saunter further into the room.

“I needed to see your initial reaction before we begin.” He stated. “Anyone who is going to attempt to use Legilimens to read your mind will not do so kindly; they will force themselves into your mind as easily as slipping a blade between your ribs. If you are incapacitated by a painful invasion, you will not have the concentration or strength to throw up your walls. Your secrets and knowledge will be open for the taking, and once they have what they need, your life will be forfeit.”

She swallowed at the cruel images he conjured in her mind as he spoke plainly. Whether or not he was enjoying the fear tactic was up for her to guess, but she knew there was truth to his words. Given her blood status, she would not be treated gently. He was warning her in his cryptic Slytherin fashion.

“I see you have for once, decided not to argue your opinion.” He commented once he was through, crossing his arms behind his back as he regarded her.

She worried her lip a little. “Because there is nothing to refute against it. But I am curious how Occlumens is going to help me control my wordless and wandless magic…”

“Thoughts and emotions are woven together in the tapestry of our being. Separating the irrational emotion from the logical part of our mind will in thus, give better control to how we use that ability. If you fuel yourself fully on rage for that power you will burn yourself out, possibly exhausting every ounce of magic you possess.”

She jolted at the very notion of losing this precious gift that had granted her access into this world that had never seemed possible. If she lost her magic, she’d be expelled from Hogwarts and sent back to the boring and mundane muggle world with nothing but memories—if she was even allowed to keep them—and the vague sense of being an outcast from the one place she was only beginning to forge for herself.

It was her Boggart last year: Failure.

Sure, it elicited giggles and snickers from the class and those they told, but while they took it as Little Miss Perfect feared she wasn’t the top dog in grades, deeper down that failure meant leaving the wizarding world and all that she’d come to know. And knowing what she did now, the things she’d accomplished in her short tenure at this establishment had certainly put her on the map. She was somebody. She couldn’t give that up, nor let herself fall victim to those who use her knowledge for their gain.

They both sat, facing each other. Her wand was set on the table by her side-within reach, but not so much that Snape wouldn’t have time to react if she did-and they took a moment of silence to begin. He instructed her to clear her mind, but that was harder than Hermione thought possible for her, there was always something on her mind. She woke up with the immediate challenges of the days already before her and laid her head on her pillow with thoughts of the future. Her brain never stopped.

Patience was tested. For the both of them.

After many failures and frustrations, the pressure mounting on the shoulders of a pupil used to conquering difficult studies only fueled her ire at her short comings. She’d only managed to conjure the image of a blank computer screen in her mind for a handful of seconds before memories or theories or even music invaded her mind.

“Damn!” she spat, clenching her fist. Her wand jerked on its own. Snape eyed it suspiciously. Her magic was reaching a point of bursting. She needed an outlet or a success in order to calm her.

“Consider if you will, a book. Imagine it Granger, a simple leather bound cover.”

She nodded. “Ok. I see it. Tanned leather, well-worn edges, a little ink smudge in the top corner.”

“Open it.”

In her mind’ eye, she caressed the buttery soft leather, the texture soothing and familiar. Her thumb curled the pages, hearing that funny flip sound they made before resting on the cover. She pulled it back, placing her hand on the blank page to steady it.

“What do you see?”

“It’s blank.”

“Good.” He said. Perhaps the first time he’d ever praised her outright. “This is your place for those memories and emotions. The fights, the hurt, the anger. Put them in this book.”

She nodded, thinking back to Yule when Ron’s interruption broke the fragile calm she had shared with Draco and how hurt she was by his assumption that she’d just go with him, hurt by his claim of fraternizing with the enemy, hurt that he hadn’t made her feel even remotely as special as Draco had. 

Snapshots of those moments, the angry words thrown at each suddenly appeared on the pages of the book, almost like a scrapbook of her worst moments. If that’s what it was going to be like, so be it. 

When he cornered her in the library, at first she’d been too driven by frustration to see it, to feel it, but looking back, she suddenly felt very vulnerable. If he had violent intentions back then, he could’ve easily pinned her against the bookshelf, hand at her throat.

How could I not have seen it then? There was anger in his eyes. He was fueled by jealousy and wanted answers-demanded them-and she’d taken them both by surprise by shoving the book into his chest and driving him back. 

Cold chills ran down her spine. Her hand shook as she placed those memories in the book, one word blotted in bright ink across the top of the page: fear.

It was then she realized Snape was seeing these as well and she slammed the book shut.

“I can’t…I don’t want to look at anymore.” She choked out.

His voice was monotone and unemotional. “Lock the book up. Wrap it chains, secure it with a heavy lock. Place that book in a chest, lock that as well.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice. The journal was bound and stashed in the chest in a heartbeat. She didn’t want to look at them anymore than she wanted anyone else to see them. If anything, she felt shame at her vulnerability.

Snape retreated from her mind, meeting her glistening brown eyes as she came to. Her lip quivered as she brought a hand up and wiped the impending tears. “However unpleasant that was, it is only the beginning.”

She grimaced at the thought. Already she wished the week was over and everyone was returning and preparing for class. It had never occurred to her how painful it’d be to look at these memories and be bathed in the harshness of them. But if doing so was going to help her gain control of her magic, it was the price to pay.

There was an awkward silence hanging over them as the professor stood. Not only was being in her mind an unsettling situation to endure, but the actions of the Weasley boy were equally as well. And these were just the beginnings, before the escalation into the violent dodgeball game. He did not relish the thought of having to see more of this, but unfortunately it appeared that her break with Ronald Weasley was the catalyst for her unchecked ability rising to the surface.

“That will be all for today, but be prepared for a longer session tomorrow. We’ve only made minimal progress but knowing what to expect as we continue will require more concentration from you.”

She didn’t even respond. She picked up her wand and exited, her stomach a pit of knots and bile in her throat. She wasn’t sure whether to call this first session a success or not, seeing as she still had so much more to go.  
……………………..

Her Easter morning was greeted with the throaty purr of Crookshanks and the dead mouse he presented her. She sighed and picked the still damp carcass off her torso and flung it across the room. He might be half Kneazle but he was still feline. She dressed in another long sleeve shirt and torn jeans with floral embroidered designs on the hemline. She met the pair of green-eyed potion partners sitting at her table, with Theo presenting Harry a parchment of potions he wanted them to brew over the week, going over the instructions as if they were discussing the latest edition of the Quibbler.

Speaking of, the Quibbler was in the hands of Luna just a few seats down. It pleased her to see students from other houses getting along without the confines of the social networking they formed just because of the color of their crest. By Harry’s invitation, anyone was allowed to sit the Gryffindors-as if it were really up to him-and for once, no one was fighting or name calling.

Mainly because of a certain ginger that wasn’t present.

She thought she’d feel guilty thinking something like that but it was in fact a bitter truth. Ronald was so narrow-minded about House loyalty that he couldn’t get over the imposed label that came with it in order to just enjoy a meal. Luna and Theo were no threat to him, and yet if he was here alongside Harry he’d be purple in the face with indignation of it.

It was becoming all too clear that his view of the wizarding world was not as accepting as she had initially thought, and it was drastically shifting further and further away from someone she even wanted to be associated with. One more fight between them would seal the deal, that she and Ron just could not mend the bridge, leaving poor Harry to choose a side.

She feared that Harry would stand by Ron merely for the brotherly bond they had developed before they fully accepted her into their circle, and how his family fawned over the orphan and made him like one of their own. It was a sad realization that she might lose not one but two friends in the near future, possibly even an entire family. What she had building with Draco was strange and shaky at best--it could end in an instant and she was all too prepared for it--so she couldn’t count on having a new friendship to fall back on if she lost this one.

Would it be considered too weak of her to ask Ron to set it all aside and start anew?

“Mione!” Harry called, snapping his fingers in front of her face to bring her back from her wanderlust.

“Oh, sorry. What were you saying?”

“I asked how your lesson went. You were late to dinner and then headed to your dorm before I could ask.”

Her hesitation spoke for her.

“Ah.” Harry concluded. “I hope it gets better.”

She nodded, prodding her ham cutlet and eggs. After she completed her meal she wasted no time in the lab, starting the cauldron to boil one set of the flowers-separately-and setting them to steep as if they were tea. She’d never considered either flower being a particularly palette pleasing drink, but that theory would have to be tested another day. She would need every drop in order to have some to test with and some to keep.

Resting in their own container, labeled and cooling, the steeping process could begin while she set off for another lesson. It took the entire trip there to steel her nerves but as she approached the door she at least felt confident enough to try it again. All she was doing was locking away bad memories and feelings, like cleaning out a closet of old clothing. 

Prepared for another mental assault, she had the wind taken from her sails when she found Snape sitting in the same spot as before, already prepped for her arrival and wasting no time in instructing her to clear her mind. Again, she thought of the blank page of a book. Nothing on the page, nothing in her mind, but the presence was there, the watchful scowl she knew all too well. Now that she was growing accustomed to what it felt like to have the Legilimens probe in her mind, she began to push on it, push it away. Snape was waiting and ready for that, his aura going nowhere as she gathered her strength against him.

It felt like a stalemate, neither presence a clear winner in this battle of wills. Perhaps a winner wasn’t the goal, merely the experience. With this in mind, she pulled back and closed the book. 

“Good.” He acknowledged. “If you cannot push out a probe, you put up a wall. Your wall just so happens to be a book, but with it sealed shut you fortify it. Now I want to see a memory.”

She flinched. What? See a memory?

“Think of the Yule ball.” He instructed. She hesitated. “The Yule ball Miss Granger, if you will.”

With great reluctance, she conjured the scene in her mind. The enchanted snowflakes falling from the ceiling, the icicles and wintergreen scenery, the floating candles and the soft light they cast. Her arm on Viktor Krum as he led her onto the dancefloor. The music began and she was swept into the swirl of skirts and robes, focusing on his rugged face as he led the steps of the waltz. He held her perfectly, rigid and straight, hands exactly where they should be. 

Several dances later she was drinking punch and laughing with the Patil twins as they complained about their dance partners. She spoke briefly with Cho and Fleur as the older girls discussed the possibility of having a romantic little snog with their men before the night was through. She considers the option, after all Viktor sought her out, perhaps he would also kiss her tonight as well?

Draco walks by, Pansy Parkinson on his arm as they come for refreshments. She braces for a snide remark but none come. In fact, just the opposite happens. Pansy actually compliments her dress. Perhaps it is a true Christmas miracle. The girls both look to Draco for his input, who seems incapable of speech in that moment. It isn’t too long after this that he excuses himself from his date and she slinks over to her fellow Slytherin girlfriends to chat.

Funny how that miniscule moment passed without a second thought, but now was so telling. The next thing she knows Ron is starting in at her, throwing his petty jealousy in her face with Harry at a loss for words. Not only hurt by Ron’s outburst, but from Harry’s inaction as well, she darts away from the Great Hall and zips through a corridor before the tears can surface in front of everyone.

Hermione tries stopping this train. She doesn’t want Snape seeing her sulk and cry like a…well, like a girl, but his presence is just as strong as an observer to all this. It’s as if she has no control over herself and he is pushing her through this night like pressing fast forward on a remote. The pace suddenly stops once Draco finds her in the corridor and he makes no qualms about Ronald.

“For once Malfoy, just stop being you.” She pleads, feeling torn down enough.

He catches her by surprise by asking who she’d rather him to be and offering up his handkerchief. Because she refuses it, he tosses it at her. Unfortunately she needs it and wipes at her face, sucking in her shock when he says she looks better when she smiles. “You should be laughing and smiling, it is a party after all. A special occasion. If anything, make that Weasley jealous by having fun.” He says, as if it the answer to everything.

How those three simple words changed everything: make Weasley jealous.

But she feels disgusted by the very idea and attempts to leave, stepping on her dress. It’s with snakelike reflexes that he grabs from behind and pulls her back before she can crash into the stone steps-which would have been a bloody mess in more ways than one-and holds her close. She feels his frantically beating heart against her back, as she is sure he feels hers where his hands crossed over. It’s a moment that lasts longer than it should, they part slowly. Unfamiliar with this aspect of Malfoy, she does what has come naturally and pricks his ego, demanding to know why he’s being nice.

He snaps back, as they are always so quick to jump at each other’s throats, his hand slamming on the wall by her head as he clearly is struggling with himself when faced so close with her. The last time they were like this, it was him against a boulder with a bloody nose.

Hermione smirks at that memory, the scene almost shifting to that moment but Snape pulls it back to the current one.

Then he unexpectedly tells her not to call herself a Mudblood and she can feel a rush of heat in her chest. The way he said it so sincerely, she knew he meant it, and that he regretted ever using it in the first place. He touches her hair, enthralled with the curl. He kisses her hand, ever so gently but she still pulls it away quickly. How now she regrets that, she’d have lingered if he did that now.

“You’re not as mean as you try to pretend you are.” She says, seeing it so clearly now. Her eyes have glimpsed at the true Draco Malfoy, who even in his animosity against her, treated her better than her own friend and made the night one to look back fondly. A girl deserved a kiss at the ball after all, even if it came from the least likely person to give it.

Ron’s outburst breaks the serene moment. He’d come looking for her, no doubt ordered by Harry to make things right and salvage the night. His eyes automatically throw daggers as he hurls an insult at her virtue. She now sees the reaction in Draco’s eyes implying that she would dare give herself so willingly to the next available boy in sight.  
So now he sees me as a girl, she muses bitterly, when faced with the threat of another guy near me. Her anger compels her to get right back into his face, finger pointing dangerously up at his eye as she defends herself. But Ron’s comeback is disappointing at best, and tears a hot line across her heart. Had Draco truly been right all this time? What was it that she had seen in Ron, other than their bond through the dangers they faced and overcame together? It clearly wasn’t enough now.

Draco draws the argument to a halt by declaring his boredom and she feels the handkerchief in her hand once more as he slips by. He throws a glance over his shoulder to her, stilling her heart. It was the same glance he gave her in the Great Hall before leaving for the holiday. A look that told her he was honest and longing for her to see it. How she knew it then she couldn’t say, but seeing it again made it so clear.

She tried shutting the book but Snape had a firm hold on that page. It angered her that he wanted to rehash this night over in her mind, angered her enough that she felt a surge flood through her at having such a private moment observed by her most disliked professor. Suddenly the book slammed shut with a resounding thud, metal clasps suddenly binding the opening shut and hissing with the telltale sign of enchantment before wrapping itself in chains and hurling itself into the chest.

A burst of energy broke their contact with each other, both reeling in their seats, breathing heavily and shaking as they realigned with their bodies. Hermione jumped to her feet, pointing at her mentor with every foul insult on the tip of her tongue before she saw the flicker of emotion across his face. It lasted briefly before he concealed it, but she’d caught it like a Snitch and gripped it tightly in her mind to possibly use for later.

“What was the point of all that?” she demanded in a voice cracked with impending tears. 

The darkly clad professor took to his feet, towering over her as she retracted her angry finger. “The point, is to see the catalyst for triggering your emotional outbursts.” He replied coolly. “The envious nature of the Weasley boy has torn at the fabric of your friendship. An understandable trigger for tapping into the most primal part of our nature.”  
Her chest heaved as she fought for peace within the blood in her veins and the humiliation in her face and the betrayal in her heart.

Snape let a lengthy pause settle in the air between them as she composed herself. “It may come as a surprise to you, but I do know how you feel.”

She blinked several times. Professor Severus Snape, sympathetic and sharing something of his past? She’d be floored if the circumstances were any different. “What happened?” she found herself asking before she could stop herself.

“A girl.” He stated. “Caught between two boys.”

Her face reddened.

“She was my friend, but one mistake on my part was all it took for her to end up with another.”

Oh lordy Jesus.

“She was a Gryffindor, but our friendship transcended the House rivalry.” Every word was carefully enunciated and deliberately spoken in his often paused cadence. “So I know all too well what it is you’re going through.”

“Do you?” she huffed. “Did you ever call her terrible names and purposely aim your wand to hurt her?”

“Has Malfoy not done the very same thing to you?” he countered. Oh touché.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “He’s apologized for that, and I believe in second chances. He’s not the same.”

“Indeed he is not.” Snape clipped in bitter agreement. “As to your question, yes, I did indeed use a terrible insult, but I never raised my wand to hurt her.”

A terrible insult?

What was the worst thing one wizard called another other than Mudblood? It was degrading and dehumanizing. But Snape held muggleborns in low esteem, he barely tolerated them in his class, how could he ever have fondness for one?

He called again for them to continue. After a healthy hesitation on her part, she took her seat and opened the blank book. The “hurricane” memory played in her mind, showing Snape the first time she had tapped into her ability, completely unawares while caught in a moment of frenzy. He took into account of her calm fluidity of it, she was a natural. Once McGonagall had possession of her wand the bond between her and her concentration was severed. At that time, Hermione had surmised that it had all been her wand. Now she was certain. She had awoken the rarely ability contained within every witch, but never had he seen it in someone so young, nor in a muggleborn. Snape was impressed but concerned. He instructed her to take the anger from that fight and place it in the book, lock it away.

He ordered her to take him to the next encounter with Weasley, and she paled. It was when she and Draco accidently took the other’s robe and had to switch back. Snape would be just as confused as Ron if she took him straight there.

“Professor.” She called, breaking the session. “Before I do that I need to explain the situation.” His curious peak of an eyebrow told her to continue. “Draco and I ended up sitting outside and talking for a while, when we made our way back to the castle, we accidently had each other’s robe-we were using them to sit on-and we excused ourselves from McGonagall’s class to switch them back. Ron caught us and misunderstood immediately. I wanted to prevent that here.”

He gave a slow nod. “And you’d rather tell me than show me?”

“You don’t need to see everything.” She replied with an edge of bite in her voice. She inhaled and steeled herself before bringing up the memory of her and Draco in the empty classroom, sharing their banter before the door swings open to reveal an appalled Ron and his assumption of the worst. She has no choice but to immobilize him before he runs to McGonagall. Draco tells her to go on to the infirmary as planned, that he’d take care of their little problem. 

Something compels her to trust him, she can’t say what, but she grabs her robe and runs from the room without looking back. Had she, she would’ve seen the face of utter betrayal on Ron’s face, the disbelief and disgust in his eye aimed at her.

“Oh…” she whispers to herself. It hadn’t occurred to her how Ron would take that, but she had tried later that evening with the chocolate and the apology, only to have both thrown back in her face. She winced as the candy package grazed her eye. Him calling her a Purist as if she was some vapid groupie for a rock band had hurt terribly. Followed by the blatant songfest he’d begun with Lavender had sunk her stomach like a stone. Yes, she knew Ron was doing to get at her, but she thought Lav was in on it too. It took every ounce of her concentration to summon a Patronus for class but she managed. 

Suddenly she’s running through the hall. Her bag clearly slams into Draco, nearly knocking him clean off his feet as he collides with the wall. She didn’t realize just how hard she’d hit since she never stopped or looked back. No wonder he came after her for an apology, anyone would want to know what was wrong after that. Then she told him to piss off and expected him to be cross enough to just do that, but instead he set himself on the ground with her.

Not wanting Snape to see this moment-this real beautiful moment between them-she pushed him back and closed the book. There would be no peeking this time. She didn’t expect it to go over well with his Head of House if his secret feelings were bared, going against what he’d been raised to believe. If anything, she needed to protect this memory. The book clamped down its steel clasps and locked itself firmly.

Snape sensed something important happened here, something regarding his godson and her that she wanted to remain quite private. Whatever it may be, she had promptly secured it away from being probed. The protective feeling she radiated off of it was all too telling. She was always a quick learner, but it was still impressive to see pulled off so well. He was going to have to resort to being sneaky in order to see where her and Draco’s relationship started to bloom.

Ignoring the obvious shut out, he orders her to dredge up the next encounter with Ron. These seem to be key, whenever she fought with Ron, shortly after she’d find herself being comforted by Draco. The pattern was evident. The announcement of her tutoring class brought Ron’s bigoted fury first thing in the morning that she didn’t refrain from giving his face a new feature: her fist.

She swore she heard Snape snicker.

Her hand had hurt the entire day, but she used that pain to fuel her through every look tossed at her, every snicker, and every uncomfortable moment during tutoring. When that one Slytherin lifted her skirt with the spell, she was ready to use it again and smash his face in, but Draco had beaten her to the proverbial punch. It was effortless how he yanked him up and tossed him out the door, turning around to dare anyone else to try something that stupid in his presence. She kept her cool but inside she flushed at his chivalry. 

Once the session was over she began cleaning the room and was caught off guard by his sudden proximity and inquiry about her hand. A moment of weakness overtook her as she cried how it all was “stupid Weasley’s” fault, she couldn’t prevent Snape from seeing how gently Draco held her and touched her lips before she jolted upright in her chair and slammed the book shut again. No, he was not going to see that almost-kiss!

She flipped to the next scene, her in the common room flinging a galleon at Ron to insult him even further when he curled his nose at the fact she had earned plenty of coin from tutoring. Him belting out that she was cavorting with Malfoy merely amused her at that point, as did the fear in her fellow Gryffindors. She looked at them with contempt. She already felt the distance growing between them and herself.

\--Interesting—Snape mused as she carried onto the next one: the Densaugeo curse. 

She and fellow friends Ginny and Luna were walking in their clique a short distance from the rest of the Gryffindors and a few of their friends. The gossip from the secret party had been brought up, Hermione being the main topic. Someone mentioned her boisterous claim that she could take on anyone and prove that she was the best in the whole school, irking Ron’s already frayed tolerance so he spun around and zapped her with a stinging jinx.

The crowd immediately parted, leaving Ron to face off with her. It had taken her by complete surprise that he would turn on her like that without even declaring an official duel, and thus she was not prepared when he followed through with the Densaugeo. The world spun as she fell to her knees, clutching her mouth as she felt her front two teeth expand painfully. Suddenly Harry was by her side, begging to see what was wrong as she saw Draco swoop down on Ron and ram a fist into his gut. No one moved as he thrust his knee into him and threw him to the ground, kicking him. Still, no one was intervening although wands were drawn. 

She had to do something before Draco crossed the line and became ambushed by her housemates. Unable to speak, all she could do was point her wand and concentrate on Draco’s form as he grabbed Ron’s collar, fist reared back. The waves of pain reverberating through her mouth made it impossible to remain in control, but enough of the spell stopped him in his tracks. As Harry picked her up and set her on his broom she caught that pained look in his stormy eyes before everything was a blur.

The book closed again.

“No more.” She pleaded. They’d been at this for hours though it felt like days. “I can’t relive that entire week at once.”

“I believe we’ve made enough progress for the day.” He acquiesced, coming to his feet and glancing off to the side. What he’d seen confirmed McGonagall’s fantastical theory and caused a stirring in his stomach. History was repeating.   
………………………….

With each day she woke and shared a handful of minutes chatting with Harry and their new table companions, the newest being Pansy Parkinson. For Slytherins to deign themselves at the Gryffindor table was something to behold, and normally she’d hold it in suspicion but she had more important things to worry on. She tended to her plants for two hours, one after breakfast and one after dinner. The majority of her time was spent in the Potion classroom dancing a battle of wills with her professor.

He taught her to not only block intrusion but also to bring up decoy memories should someone be specifically looking for something, she could just think of something she did so often that one memory would bleed into the next, like reading or doing lessons. He did so by telling her he wanted her to think of her first day, but to try to block him by using the decoy method.

She recalled opening the doors on the Hogwarts Express, in search of Neville’s toad when she met Draco for the very first time. He used to slick his hair back then but stopped by the summer of second year. He hadn’t seen the toad but told her he’d keep an eye out and asked her name so he could inform her.

“It’s Hermione!” she smiled brightly and dashed off to the next cart, leaving him to guess which family she came from. Then she stumbled upon two boys munching away on snacks from the trolley; a ginger with a smudge of soot on his nose and a dark haired boy with broken glasses. She fixed them and discovered he was none other than the famed Boy-who-Lived, and they all later were sorted into Gryffindor. She felt welcomed and happy, looking around the expansive Great Hall in its entire splendor, finally resting on the blond haired boy she’d met on the train. Draco Malfoy and his air of authority, his smugness, his instant distaste for Ron had caused Harry to refuse his hand in friendship. Despite sitting among his peers, he seemed perturbed in a manner, though she had no idea why. She’d get used to those grey eyes glancing her way over the next few years, although for all the wrong reasons.

She recalled the enthusiasm in which she tackled her lessons, hand shooting in the air any time the professors asked a question, ever so eager to please them with her knowledge. All but one: Potion Master Severus Snape. He blatantly ignored her as he faced Harry for the first time.

“Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Why had he asked that?

She felt the peering presence loom over her shoulder, knowing that Snape was trying to see this memory, so she flipped back to being on the Express. Memories of each ride there and back over the years, always sitting with her two besties, always laughing and sharing treats, reading a book or the newspaper, until his presence was effectively pushed out. 

Occlumency was giving her the rare insight to her memories from another vantage point, watching herself as if she were in a movie theater, her life on the screen. Hogwarts was magical and wonderful, yet it had its terrors and bullies and prejudices against students like her, but she’d somehow overcome everything the wizarding world had thrown at her…except for watching a friend slowly turn into one of those elements that despised her and it broke her heart.  
…………………………


	25. Brewing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry tags along with Theodore Nott for a week to see if he actually has what it takes to brew potions properly. It’s a nice distraction from his struggle with Ron. Ronald on the other hand spends his entire time at home in solitude, focusing his spellcasting.

Harry saw off the Weasley bunch with a mixture of genuine pleasantries with the twins and Ginny, and a forced strain with Ron. It was awkward to not have a civil parting with him. In whispers with the Weasley sister, they shared their concern and hope that a week at home would do him some good and that he and Hermione might put an end to their feud.

It drew his attention when Hermione was locked in a stare with Draco and made no move to approach. As far as he knew, everything was amicable between them. Had Draco told her what he was intending to do this week? Was that it? He hadn’t told her yet, there hadn’t been the right moment with all the fighting and him having to play mediator. But now he definitely could, he’d just have to see how long her Occlumens lesson would be.

Seeing as she was being stubborn he gave up and wandered out of the Great Hall, bumping into fellow students on their way to leave for the holiday. Most of the castle would empty, leaving just a few dozen students left, including their foreign guests. He bumped into Neville in the hall and slung his arm over his shoulder in a one-arm hug.

“Bring back some of your Gran’s goodies, will ya?” he said, knowing full well Neville always did. “I’m gonna feel starved all this week.”

“Sure thing mate.” The nervous-natured Gryffindor agreed, shuffling his bag over his shoulder. “Just stay out of trouble this time.”

Harry rolled his eyes and laughed. “Why does everyone think I go looking for trouble?”

“Oh come on, ever since first year you’ve been the magnet for it. Need I make a list?”

Harry playfully punched his arm. “Don’t go sounding all Hermione on me now.”

Neville rubbed his arm and laughed. “Well someone needs to keep you in line, and it can’t always be her. Just don’t give McGonagall anymore grey hairs this year.”

They approached the main doors, Neville joining the queue of students piling into carriages to be led off the grounds. He and Harry shared a friendly wave before he stepped in and was off. A cold sense of loneliness washed over him as he entered back into the main hall. This would be his first Easter without the comfort of the Weasley home, without his buddy Ron, and without an idea of how he was supposed to manage his time other than at some point meet up with Theo for potion brewing.

He didn’t think Theo would want to jump right into it first thing in the morning so he Accioed his broom and headed out to the Quidditch pitch, surprised to see it overrun with Durmstrang students. They were fine players, solid built teens bordering on adulthood with muscles to spare. The dozen of them dined at the Slytherin table but stayed in their creepy yet fantastic ship during the nights. He knew very little of their school, hell, he didn’t even know where it was located, but he knew it was more militant than Hogwarts and heard they taught the Dark Arts, not just Defense of.

The dozen of them were setting up their teams when he advanced their way, Viktor being the one to wave him in to his group, throwing a thick arm over his shoulders as if to show him off.

“Is Seeker from lion house, Herry Pottuhr.” He boasted, pleased to have an acquaintance with the famed boy. “He’z friend to Haer-me-ON-ae.”

Bless his poor Bulgarian heart; the boy could not say her name to save his life.

Harry smiled nonetheless at the introduction, shaking hands with the towering teens and fell into Quidditch talk in an instant. They wanted to hear all about the daring eleven year old who made the team his first year, which hadn’t happened in going on half a century. It was one thing to have fame for being the Boy-Who-Lived, a title he had been bequeathed which spawned a whole generation of idol worship, but it was another to have notoriety for an accomplishment he actually earned himself. He regaled them happily and before he knew it he was in the air with them, zooming around in search of the snitch and having a wonderful time.

Time flies when you’re on a broom, and before Harry knew it, they were breaking for lunch. He stumbled into the Great Hall with the Durmstrang boys like a ruckus band of rock stars, all slapping each other on their backs in jubilation of their game. They had set their brooms and gear aside in the locker room but had yet to shower off, sweat permeating off their robes as they swished in for their meal. At their insistence, he joined them at the Slytherin table.

Theo regarded him coolly as he plopped down on the bench across the table. He grimaced at the scent of Quidditch sweat wafting over their food. “Honestly Potter, I figured you cultured enough to bathe first. You’re ruining my olfactory delight in this meal.”

Harry gaped for a moment, struck for a loss of any comeback to that.

“Enjoy your game?” he drawled, twirling his fork around his pasta. “I had all but given up on you taking this seriously.”

“I’m sorry Theo, I got carried away.”

“Oh I can certainly see that.” Clearly, he was not an avid fan of the sport. Given how wiry his body frame was, all it would take was one well-placed bludger to break a few ribs. For a short second, Theo was suddenly a genderbent version of Hermione and it was a little unnerving.

“I had a lovely chat with that brain with the lion’s mane friend of yours while she set up her lab.” He continued but in a lighter tone. “She is hell-bent to spend every possible minute of her time here in pursuit of education. Admirable. Honestly, does she not know the meaning of a vacation?”

Harry chuckled. “Been trying to teach her that one for years.”  
………………………………

After a good scrub down and a fresh set of clothes on, Harry met with Theodore at the classroom he procured last minute with Snape’s permission. As his head of house and potions professor, there really was no reason to not grant such a request. While he would’ve preferred the actual potions classroom, Snape rarely left that particular room unoccupied or unlocked. There was thousands of galleons worth of perfected potions that simply could not be trusted to be nicked by any given student.

“Given that allergy season is in full bloom, I figured we could start with a Lung Clearing potion. Merlin knows someone around here is going to need it.” Theo sighed dramatically. 

“I’ve never made one of those.” Harry admitted sheepishly.

The brunet boy rolled his olive eyes. “Why am I not surprised?” He pulled Harry’s sleeve and positioned him in front of the cutting board, the ingredients already laid out neatly.

“Wow, you really are like Hermione…”

Theo cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.”

Slightly horrified at his slip of tongue comment, Harry started retracting his statement when his companion just clapped him on the shoulder and laughed. “Loosen up Potter, not all Slytherins are uptight little arseholes that’ll hex you for a joke, although I do not speak for the majority of them. Now, crushed those frettle-nettles and slice down the middle of the pickled witch hazel, you’ll just want the innermost part of the stem, not the whole thing.”  
……………………..

By the end of the first day Harry was feeling quite confident at his successful potion. Each sequential day of the week Theo presented Harry with a different potion, typically considered easy but increasing in the amount of concentration and precise instructions. Stirring direction as well as exact amount, precise consistency and color, and the all-important boiling point. Theo ground it into Harry’s head day after day with a mixture of heavy handed lectures and banter. Unlike Hermione who never took to making jokes while working and like Ron who made too many. A perfect medium that made the lesson stick.  
……………………….

He grew concerned over Hermione’s Occlumency training, seeing her only at meal times and very minimally at that. She looked exhausted, mentally drained and edgy, not engaging in talk. He knew better than to expect a gentle approach from Snape, and felt angry on her behalf that the professor with obvious disdain for Gryffindors would even take this opportunity to continue his obvious bullying behavior.

Without her willing to talk about her lessons Harry felt helpless to do anything about it, whether she needed comforting or venting. He wanted to whip out the Marauders map and point out that he’d seen the name of Rita Skeeter within the castle, knowing Hermione would become an absolute vigilante in pursuit of the rubbish writer. 

And that also brought to mind why he’d never seen Professor Moody’s name on the map, despite him being their resident DADA teacher. Just who the heck was Barty Crouch Jr anyways? Was professor Moody off doing other deeds and having this Crouch guy fill in for him as his cover? Knowing that polyjuice potion took a whole month to brew, it meant that this was a well prepared act and he had a steady supply. Obviously, he couldn’t very well have the map out during class, but every other time he’d unfold the enchanted chart he’d never seen the man’s name.

On the bright side of it all, he found himself enjoying Theo’s company. And where Theo was concerned, there was Pansy Parkinson, slowly slinking her way in to join them at the Gryffindor table, feigning disinterest with her few tablemates. Normally she didn’t stay holidays at Hogwarts and spent them off on exotic locations or attending gala events hosted by Lady Malfoy, but Draco had requested it of her to not attend, claiming he had a private matter to tend to and her presence would only serve as a distraction.

Harry blanched at that comment; worried Draco had said more before Pansy shrugged and threw her hand up, claiming that whatever it was ought to be damn important. If she did know, she was damn good at playing ignorant.

Funny how when not constrained by the schedule of classes and the surrounding of peers, that he discovered not all Slytherins were as bad as they made themselves out to be. It was sad in a way, that once this holiday came to an end, they would go back to their own tables and the animosity would return and there would be no more of jokes and friendly banter.  
………………………

The Burrow was a quaint little cottage on a parcel of land with multiple additions added onto it over the years as the Weasley family increased. It was located on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole in Devon, England, so well hidden that Molly Weasley doubted that the postman even knew it existed. Nestled amongst rolling hills and fertile meadows, other wizarding families in the area included the Diggorys, the Lovegoods and the Fawcetts. The building itself might once have been an old stone pigpen, which had several crooked stories attached to it. Four or five chimneys dotted the roof of the house, and the entire building was most likely held up by magic due to its crazy construction.

Thus it granted perfect cover from muggle intervention, as well as privacy from its neighbors as Ron took to practicing his magic out on family land. Minors enrolled at Hogwarts had their magic monitored, but given that the Weasley’s were pureblood and of the Sacred 28, and that he was with parental custody, there would be no officials breaking down the door.

Aiming at trees, at half-buried boulders, and at little mounds he rockets off defensive and offensive blasts. One after another as someone memorizing lines in a school play, getting faster and clearer with pronunciation. If it was one thing Hermione had ingrained into him, it was that enunciation was key. He’d spend hours upon hours until his magic was spent, covered in sweat, his brow furrowed and fists clenched, just imagining the face of his target with every spell.

Molly stood at the sink, absentmindedly waving her wand over the dishes, watching her youngest son lash out at the imaged foes he was battling, wondering what had changed in him that brought out this sense of dread in her heart. When she pressed Ginny and the twins, all they said was that he and Hermione had a falling out, both were taking it hard but they hoped that it would blow over, although it had been going on a few months.

Molly shook her head, more to herself than anyone else, knowing that there was a storm brewing within her son, one that would be devastating unless it fizzled out naturally.  
…………………….


	26. Espionage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco plays double agent as he tries to find evidence of his father’s plotting all while feigning interest in Death Eater ways. The latest edition of Hogwarts Daily blows his cover as he struggles to deceive his father by playing to his beliefs.

Draco mentally fortified his walls in preparation for the Easter brunch his mother hosted every year. There would be dozens of guests milling about, making polite conversation all while trying to gage information through other means. A slip of Veritaserum, a probe of Legilimens, perhaps a charmed artifact? The means were many and rewards great if someone ever uncovered a Malfoy secret. It was an environment he’d been born and bred into, been taught it before he ever had his first flying lesson.

A Malfoy was the epitome of cool grace, the calm before the storm, the black abyss that stares back into your soul without revealing the slightest truth about themselves. The power their family held over others was to be feared, for you never wanted to owe a Malfoy a favor. They would and could break you in a thousand different ways if you crossed them. The secrets passed from generation to generation were highly sought after; ancient dark magic techniques lost to public knowledge, their alignment to the Dark Lord and his deeds in the first wizarding war, and just how the Malfoys managed their immense wealth.

The old adage ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer’ was not a muggle invention, but a wizarding one, more than likely an old Malfoy saying. Wine and dine your rival just as you would a friend and you’ll be surprised at what they let slip. Or what they’ll slip up trying to get out of you. So every smile belayed the scowl, and every peck on the cheek hid the internal grimace. But he played his part perfectly, at his mother’s side, welcoming guests and kissing hands and exclaiming false pleasantries to people he’d rather not share the same air space with.

Especially when Lord and Lady Greengrass presented their two daughters when they arrived upon the threshold, Daphne and Astoria smiling and dressed in pureblood finery, like pretty little dolls. He had to shove down his ire at seeing Daphne, after hearing her vehement outcry at Hermione joining heir table days previous. And he prayed that she knew better to still her tongue about it here. He knew there were negotiations in place to have him either betrothed to either of the sisters, or Pansy. He’d have to tread carefully when the subject was bound to be brought up.

As he feared, he was paired up with the sisters and all but ordered to escort them around the grounds. Narcissa waved him off, summoning house elves to serve her and her guests tea while he watched his father retreat into manor with several men, some he knew were former Death Eaters, like Theo’s father. No chance of eavesdropping or joining in that meeting.

He excused himself with the ruse of needing the loo and promised to return shortly, summoning Dobby the moment he had his privacy. He cast a silencing spell around himself to ensure it.

“Dobby, I need you to remain invisible and sneak into Father’s study. Tell me anything you might hear in regards to plans. And if you get the opportunity, look around. And be careful, let no one see you. Not even the other elves.”

Although the other house elves would love to see their beloved freed brother, if any of them so much as let slip that they had seen him, then Merlin help them. Those still bound to the magical ties that kept them enslaved would force them to comply with whatever they were ordered to do. They would not be able to lie to their master.

When Draco returned, he found it was only Daphne waiting for him, which immediately raised suspicion. “Where has your sister gone to?” he inquired upon reaching her.

“She didn’t want to feel like a third wheel and is siting by the fountain, idly throwing feed to the peacocks.”

“More like you told her to make herself scarce.” He called her out, offering his arm so they could walk. “What do you want Daph?”

She wrinkled her nose at the plain nickname, despising when her name was reduced to half of its original form. “You seem agitated little dragon, party that dull?”

“Don’t call me that.” He snarled, feigning a smile as they passed the area where his mother was hosting tea. They looked every bit the young courting couple to the unsuspecting eye. “And yes, this party is quite dull but I still fulfill my duties.”

She harrumphed. “You know what’s going to be discussed, might as well say your piece about it Draco. I will not play games.”

“Then spit it out. What do you want?”

“Call it off with the Mudblood bitch.” She plainly ordered. “I’ll not agree to be your wife if I know you’ve sullied yourself with her presence any longer.”

He gripped her arm tightly. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you Daph. And for your information, what I am doing with Granger is no concern of yours.”

She winced with the pressure he applied but to her credit didn’t try to wriggle free. “It is every bit my business! It astonishes me how lax several of our housemates are about this, and if this is some sort of game then I need to be aware of it.”

“Those who know are the ones I trust, which clearly, you are proving to be incapable of having if you cannot stop acting like a petulant child. Have you ever considered a deeper game at play here?”

“Don’t test me Draco. Agree to end this farce or I will play my hand.”

Having walked quite a distance out of general sight, he whirled her around to face him. “You. Do. Not. Order. Me.” He intoned darkly. “You are merely a consideration, not in any position to make demands of me. If I am so inclined I could merely say I fancy your sister over you, or neither. I have options. You’re just another name on the list.”

The words were meant to sting, and they did, but were also a bitter truth. While Daphne could claim that their parents were in discussion of betrothal, she was just one on a very select list of Draco’s choosing. If she failed to secure him as her betrothed, there was still a chance their families could be yet be bound with a marriage to her younger sister. But it still meant a humiliation on her part.

“Now Draco,” she cooed, trying to sooth his temper that she ignited, “I only make a reasonable request, the same request your father would order of you. I just want this whole messy business to be put behind us, no one else needs to be involved.”

He squinted his grey eyes, finally locking the puzzle piece into place. “It was you. You went to Skeeter knowing damn well she’d eat up every word and print it.”

When she said nothing he continued.

“You do realize you’ve only jeopardized your chances of being selected. I was the one who slandered Granger in the first place in my plot against Potter. Now you’ve gone and taken that spotlight and turned it on myself.” He retracted his hand off her as if he’d been burnt. “I cannot believe petty jealousy led you to such a disgraceful act. And then you have the gall to threaten me with the very article you helped create? You have no credibility to be believed by anyone.”

“Just tell me what’s going on!” she insisted, losing her cool.

He shook his head. If the situation were not if such a serious matter then he might take entertainment from her distressing demeanor. “I do not need to explain myself to a child. Consider yourself expunged from my betrothal candidate list.”

Her mouth gaped open. “You can’t do that!”

“Oh you will find out that I can, and I will, and consider it done.” He took her arm and turned her around so she was facing the way they came. “Go back to the party and have some refreshments, clear your head. We’re through discussing this.”

And with that he left her, heading towards another entrance into the mansion. He’d deal with being dressed down for abandoning his duties but he had to get away from her before he wrung her neck. Knowing she was the saboteur gave little comfort since the damage had already been done with words being in print. He could only hope he could deflect the underlying truth of the article as sheer drivel since he spearheaded the smear campaign in the first place.  
……………………………..

Monday morning was oddly quiet, even in a house known for its resounding silence. Draco dressed accordingly for breakfast but stopped short when it was only his father at the table. A cold sense of dread permeated into his bones at his father’s arched brow and flat line of lips as Draco approached. One hand rested on his ever present cane, the other held a folded newspaper in his hand.

“Is Mother running late?” he inquired, knowing that his mother was never late for family gatherings.

“She has already taken her leave.” Lucius coolly replied. “Sit.”

The scraping of the chair against the floor was the only sound as Draco did as he was told. He scooted it back in and inhaled deeply, hesitant to touch the food just yet. A moment passed between father and son before the barest of nods indicated Draco had permission to eat. With deliberate slowness, Draco poured himself a glass of juice and selected a few sausages. He couldn’t show eagerness to dine; it would be weakness to admit to hunger.

Lucius watched his son eat with a practiced hand, every move slow and methodical, manners as perfect as his own. “Your little stroll with Daphne Greengrass ended rather abruptly.” He stated, catching his son’s reaction in a slight wince.

Draco solemnly nodded. “Yes, I’ve come to the conclusion that she and I are not a compatible match.”

“You said the same thing of Miss Parkinson after Yule.” Lucius added.

But Draco was ready to refute this one. “We’ve grown up together much like siblings. Try as I might, I cannot see her as anything other than a sister and she feels the same.”

“This certainly narrows down your list of potential choices.”

Again, Draco nodded like an obedient son. “Isn’t that the point though? I must pick one.” He lightly joked.

Lucius regarded his son with a steel glance, unamused. “By your birthday, you should have the girl selected.” He’d be fifteen, right at the age for social courting and having the announcement made to the public. That was exactly two months and a day away.

“Of course.”

“In the meantime, I suggest you stop distracting yourself with dalliances with unsavory types.” With a lazy flick, Lucius tossed the newspaper towards Draco who went ashen at the article he’d been reading. “Care to explain this nonsense?”

Draco’s mouth went dry, heart suddenly racing.

Just how did Father get a copy of the Hogwarts Daily? It wasn’t delivered outside of the school; it wasn’t up for subscription as it was just a product for the students. His mind raced until it slammed to a heart-stopping halt. Daphne.

‘Agree to end this farce or I will play my hand.’ She had warned him.

-Oh the little bitch-

“Answer me.” Lucius ordered darkly.

“Skeeter…” Draco choked out before gathering his wits. “She’s been posting drivel like this since the beginning of the Tri-wizard Tournament.”

“And where would she even get an idea this ridiculous?”

The truth was better than anything. “I had her start rumors against Potter, using Granger to debase his character. Since Krum took her to Yule I made it appear she was two-timing him. It worked well.”

“If it worked so well she would have no need to include you in this.” Draco knew that tone, the one that clearly said ‘you’re hiding something’ and he realized why his mother wasn’t present. Lucius had ordered her to go so he could interrogate him in privacy, without her to act as a buffer.

“Trust me; I didn’t give her permission to write this libel. Once I return to Hogwarts I will put my foot dow-”

“Stop. Lying.” Lord Malfoy ordered, effectively shutting his son up. He rose to his feet, slowly pacing the length of the table as Draco feared the inevitable. It took every ounce of his training and fiber of his being to show no emotion, to not bolt upright from his chair and stand face-to-face against Lucius and tell him he could make his own choices. No matter how many times he’d imagined doing so, he would crumble when faced with the reality.

The long white fingers of Lucius’ hand gripped Draco’s left shoulder. The air was tense and filled with that deadly calm before the storm. Lord Malfoy was a man who ruled his household with an iron fist. His wife and son were expected to be obedient and shining examples of his superiority in every manner. Whatever expected of them, they were to deliver with upmost perfection. An embarrassment to the name Malfoy was an insult to him.

“Crucio.”

Draco fell from the chair, spilling his glass of juice, writhing on the floor in blinding white pain as the Unforgiveable Curse was directed upon him, taking him fully by surprise.  
“Do you honestly believe you could pacify the Dark Lord with that pathetic excuse?” Lucius asked with a slick calm, walking a circle around the thrashing form of his son, watching the curse wrack his body. “Do you think you can persuade the most powerful dark wizard of our time with a mere ‘I’ll put my foot down’?”

He retracted the spell to give Draco a moment to collect himself, expecting an answer from his thoroughly shocked and distressed offspring. When Draco had yet to verbally respond, his ribs were met with the silver tipped dragon leather Dappermen Oxfords. The studded trim along the sole torn small holes into Draco’s shirt.

“Speak boy.” He ordered.

“She’s a shite writer, no one takes her seriously-” his protest ended in more screams as the curse shot through him once again.

“Ok! Ok! I’m only using her!” he panted, desperate for relief from the curse just to breathe. “She’s was Weasley’s little girlfriend…and I have him believing that I stole her from him….She’s just a pawn…”

Lucius towered over his son, unmoved. “And this Mudblood, is she aware of this?”

Draco couldn’t very well have his father knowing that he was even working in tandem with Hermione as his Potion partner, let alone in this farce that turned into something more. “No…” he croaked. “She believes I’ve come around. All it took was waiting for the right opportunity…they have a very public row…I fed her a cheesy apology and she ate it up….Stupid bint….she thinks she’s conquered me with kindness or some shit like that….”

Lucius eyed his son as Draco held his ribs and spewed his words in one long spiel. He struck his cane against Draco’s arm that held his torso, earning another anguished cry. “When the Dark Lord is resurrected, you will find his punishments far worse than this. Mind you, that I do this to teach you to know your place.”

“Yes father.” Draco cried in a subdued voice. 

“You will end this game in due time, make that Mudblood understand her place as well.” Another strike of the cane, this time marking the ribs he earlier connected with his shoe.

“Ahhh! Of course I will!” his son wailed, a pathetic mess of tears and whimpers on the beautifully stained wooden floor. “She’ll be so humiliated she’ll drop out of the school….I swear it….” His voice ended in wheezes as his father left him without another word or a backwards glance.

Draco tasted blood in his mouth, whether from biting his own cheek or just effects of the Cruciatus Curse he couldn’t say. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move and knew he’d lost any chance of convincing his father that he wanted to be in on the plot before the holiday vacation could even start. He’d been an utter failure to Potter and himself, not even lasting a day as a spy, all thanks to Daphne’s meddling.  
………………………..

After leaving Draco to ponder the error of his ways, he released his wife from the Imperius Curse and informed her their son was awaiting her in the breakfast room. Bewildered as to the loss of time and why she was out in the garden rather having breakfast with Draco she march over there to stumble upon him in his state on the floor, she put it together and bitterly shook her head.

“Draco darling…” she softly cooed to his fetal positioned body, broken and bleeding and shamed. He was barely coherent but felt a soothing presence, something that told him he was safe now.

However powerful and proficient the Malfoys and Blacks were in magic, they never had been much for healing. All the Legilimens and Occlumency in the world were useless when it came to undoing damage of this kind. And Lucius would forbid having a Healer provided for him to prolong the punishment. Draco would be forced to endure this for the rest of the week before returning to school. 

Narcissa summoned several house elves and had them tend to his immediate injuries, cleaned him up, redressed him in sleepwear and tuck him back into his bed. He had been given a pain reducer potion, which would only take the edge off but ensure him some rest. She looked wearily upon the table, seeing the barely half eaten breakfast and spilled juice and swished her wand, undoing the mess and finding an odd looking newspaper folded so a particular article showed.

She picked it up and unfolded the paper; it was a Hogwarts Daily, the school’s own paper that only circulated throughout the castle and occasionally to Hogsmeade. It rarely travelled further than that unless students brought them home. A blaring title and two side by side photos of her son and that particular girl…Granger was her name, followed by a salaciously typed column was all she needed to know as to why this had happened.  
……………………………

The day had passed him by as he lay in bed. He awoke, body stiff and aching with a pinch in his ribs as he breathed. All he could think about as his eyes soullessly glanced about his room was how he was going to explain himself to Potter, and the disappointed look he’d get, and that flimsy bridge they had just built would crumble when Potter would think he’d been full of hot air. And then it would only be a matter of time until that green-eyed wonder would tell his dear Granger and she’d no undoubtedly take his side, because they were best friends through and through. The small sampling of her trust would be broken as well.

All because Daphne couldn’t get over her own insecurity.

Well, she had every right to be insecure when standing next to Hermione Granger. However beautiful she may be, it was purely superficial. He’d seen far too many occasions in which that pretty face would twist into an ugly sneer and the vilest words would spew forth, only to switch it on a dime and flutter her lashes. He may be a Gemini but he wasn’t two-faced like that, she was utterly bi-polar. He feared her little sister might also carry that same kind of crazy but he’d barely had more than a passing introduction and idle chitchat with Astoria to gage her personality.

He had his one chance to prove to Hermione that he was worthy of her trust and had lost it even before he’d started. It was left to Scarface and her to figure out the plot and save the day. Again.

The door creaked open, pulling him away from his depressing thoughts. He could only move his neck in the direction, his body had been immobilized. That could only mean he’d suffered severe enough damage that he needed to be absolutely still to mend. And his father said that this would’ve been so much worse if the Dark Lord had seen to punishing him. He shuddered at the thought.

“Draco dear, I’m going to release you from the Immobilous, and it’s going to hurt.” The soothing voice of his mother filled his ears. “Brace yourself.”

Once the magical brace securing his body left he felt the pressure of his cracked ribs and bruised organs full force and groaned with his first breath. A house elf accompanied her and with a gentle push of its magic, Draco was sitting upright, accepting a cup to drink and parch his dry throat. The house elf, one named Mipsy, took back the cup and placed a notebook and quill in his hands. Curious, he met the house elf’s large eyes only to be given the signal to be silent.

“I’ve seen the column Rita Skeeter wrote and I have to say I am terribly disappointed in you.” Narcissa began in a bright clear voice that dripped with disapproval.

Words appeared on the notebook’s page.

~Honestly Draco, how could you be so sloppy about this? Surely you must’ve realized someone would get back to us.

He looked up at his mother, who also held a corresponding notebook. He suddenly understood. This conversation was being monitored—or in actuality, his room was—and this was the only way his mother could say what she wanted Draco to know without repercussions.

“I’m sorry Mother.”

-I’m sorry Mother; I honestly thought I had it in hand.

“It would kill us to have you end up like your aunt Andromeda.”

~I think your aunt would be so proud of you, for following your heart. That is, if your feelings for this girl are true.

“Thank Merlin this is just a ploy against those dreaded Weasley’s.”

-It started out that way.

~Oh son don’t lie, I know you’ve had your eye on her for years. Every letter you sent home was half dedicated to her and all the ways she bested you. Your father merely took it as a careful observation of your rival, but I knew better.

“Well shit.” He muttered.

“Language!” she admonished.

-It was Daphne who brought that paper here, trying to blackmail me. I should’ve known she’d do something like this.

~How did Rita even get onto the grounds?

-That’s what I want to know. I’ve always met her in Hogsmeade when I was making up lies against Potter.

~You need to find her and silence her before she ruins us, and what you have with Miss Granger

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”

-So I take it you’re supporting this?

“For a smart boy, you surely can be an idiot at times.” She sighed.

He snorted with a small smile on his lips. That, he could agree to.

~Be more discreet, unfortunately you may have to break her heart to keep her safe. You know what your father is planning and she would be handed right over to you-know-who and be slowly killed in front of your eyes.

-I’m not going to let that happen.

“Don’t start thinking you know everything now.” She warned.

-I’m trying to STOP father. I don’t want the dark lord back any more than you do! That’s why I came here, to gather anything I could use. Now I’ve failed Potter and Granger.

~What do you think you’ll need?

-My invisible cloak for one. Any documents or proof I can take to Dumbledore. 

~You know he won’t allow me in his study. Whatever business he’s been conducting in there is Death Eater business only. My duty to him is just to follow his lead and be on a need to know basis.

-I brought Dobby

“You what?!” she exclaimed.

He winced from her outburst, but scribbled his response in the notebook.

-He’s been living at the castle since being freed, helping Granger with some ridiculous project to free all indentured elves. Potter recruited him to assist in this mission.

Narcissa took a deep breath and paced in a circle for a moment, clearly expressing her unease and outright shock to this revelation. She brought the notebook back up against her arm and met her son’s cloudy sky eyes. 

~Seems you’re full of surprises this year. Friends with your rivals now? There is hope for you yet. But please just be careful. I’ll get you whatever I can, just do and say whatever your father askes of you to appease him.

“I’m sure being confined to your room for the duration of your stay is lesson enough to see the foolishness of your ways.”

“Yes mother.” He finally spoke, his voice laced with genuine remorse. “May I have some books from the library to pass the time?”

“Yes, just inform Mipsy here of what you’d like. She will oversee your recovery.”

Upon having her name spoken, Mipsy gently took the notebook and quill from Draco and placed them in the drawer of his night stand. Narcissa gave a pitied glance at her son, knowing his life was dancing a thin line. Either side held danger, but only one held hope.  
………………………..

The next three days were bedridden boredom for Draco, having one book after the other from the library brought at his request, along with his sketchbook. When he couldn’t concentrate on reading, a certain character began to remind him too much of Hermione, he’d open the cherished artistic journal and gaze at all the portraits he’d drawn of her.  
Some were rough sketches, drawn in haste just to collect that particular moment of how her hair fell over her face when she was lost in the pages of book, or the way she nibbled her thumb and scrunched her brow as she pondered an equation. Then there were full body images of her in muggle wear, arm in arm with Ginny, laughing gayly as if her life had no worries. A conjured image of her in her pink Yule ball gown; standing at the top of the stairs, a smile just for him on her face.

He shut the sketchpad and sighed. She tested every bit of his sanity. Ignore her he tried to no avail, her personality filled the room. Her voice carried far too loud and proud. Her hair was a living entity of its own. And damn her quick wit and intelligence! She met every insult with one of her own, no hesitation. Try as he might, he couldn’t best her. How could not win unless he played dirty. And that was the only thing she would not succumb to, her moral compass leading her to take the high road even if it meant a loss.  
She was a light to his darkness.

His conversations with his mother had to be covert and discreet. Seeing as Mipsy came from the Black family, her loyalty was bound to Narcissa. That didn’t mean some of the other elves from the Malfoy line were not spying on Draco and his mother at any given time. He was finally able to walk and join his parents for meals by then, although to his dismay, Lucius ordered him to return to school earlier than scheduled so he could be tended to by the school physician.

“Tell them it was a Quidditch injury and leave it at that.” He ordered.

Draco complied, knowing he was truly out of options. He was treading with a limp, keeping his left hand in his pocket as he took careful steps, masking his pain as much as he could. He didn’t even remember being struck in the face, but he had a swelling lavender blight against his pale cheek. All injuries dotted his left side, consistent with a fall off a broom. It would be how he delivered the lie that would make no one question him. Quidditch players sustained their fair share of injuries and even deaths from their love of the sport, it was a gamble and a thrill, and one liberty he’d been allowed.

With a heavy heart, he flicked open the lid of his trunk and began levitating clothing and items into the hollow interior. When he bedroom door opened and closed quickly, he knew it was his mother before he felt the silky brush of the invisibility cloak against his arm as it was dropped in with his clothing. She pressed a loving kiss against his right temple, running her hand through his platinum locks, a silent gesture wishing him all the luck in whatever dangerous and stupid adventure he was bound to get himself into.  
“There is gift within the cloak.” She whispered. “For her.”

She left without another word, leaving her son to continue packing. They’d be leaving first thing in the morning, bright and early with no time for dalliances. If something wasn’t packed it wasn’t going. Draco felt the silky texture of the cloak that had been confiscated from him first year as punishment for losing the Slytherin House Cup to Gryffindor at the last minute, along with Potter making the Quidditch team over him-who was clearly better suited for the task with all the training he’d had before attending the school.

His hands felt a flat surface as he traced them nimbly, feeling edges that could only indicate one thing: a book. Of course, he’d made it clear over the years that Granger was an academic wonder despite her blood heritage. As to the book his mother was willing to bequeath her, he couldn’t say nor risk unravelling it only to have his father barge in and be perceptive enough to realize the reason why he had it. He’d have to wait until he was back in the castle; his luggage would be in a separate car during the whole ride on the Express and in the carriage that would take him back to the castle.

He silently prayed Dobby had been successful in his task. If Dobby had been that determined two years ago to help Harry, he would be damned if he’d fail now. Despite having his loyalties switch from the Malfoy’s to Potter, Dobby was one of-if not-the most loyal creature he’d ever met. Harry had been right to free him. God damn bloody brilliant of stuffing a sock into that dreaded journal he’d imposed on Ginevra, only to brazenly hand it back to Lucius with a witty retort.

Prideful to the end, Lucius shoved the book into Dobby’s hands, kicking him for good measure as he whirled away in defeated anger, turning his back on the single most insulting act to ever happen to a Malfoy in generations. Draco smirked at the image in his mind, telling himself that Father deserved every bit of it, including the protective blast Dobby shot at him as he raised his cane to strike the dark haired boy.

Beating his son was one thing, raising his cane to strike a child not his own was another. Honestly, did Father not think there’d be repercussions from attempting that? If only Father hadn’t punished him for every achievement Harry attained, solidifying an underlying hatred of the prat, he’d have gladly shaken his hand just for freeing the house elf. Yes, he in part, stole away Draco’s beloved little friend, but look where things had taken them of their own accord. Secret allies and somewhat acquaintances. He just prayed they’d remain that upon his return.  
……………………..


	27. Suspicions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s something off about this holiday week that has everyone’s brain working overtime.

“And what brings my delicate little flower over here this morning?” Theo drawled as Pansy slid up next to him at the Gryffindor table.

“Probably the same thing that brings you Thee, the allure of forbidden fruit.” She purred as a plate materialized in front of her with her favorite morning entrees. A wink flashed in Harry’s direction almost had him choking on his pumpkin juice.

Theodore didn’t rise to the bait, but instead showed her his list of potions he’d arranged. “Unlike some other Slytherins loafing about this week, I’m utilizing our time to teach Potter Boy here how to pass Snape’s class.”

“Aren’t you a golden example of good Samaritanism?” she laughed.

“And what of you, any reason in particular why you stayed at school this time? Don’t you usually attend the Easter brunch with the Malfoys?”

She sighed. “Draco said he had something to do and my being there would be a distraction from it. As I’m sure you’re aware he’d be required to be my escort. So whatever it is, it better be damn important.”

Theo caught the slight loss of color in Harry’s face at the mention of this, all the while admonishing the fact that Gryffindors had terrible tells. He’d be a terrible poker player. He had the sneaky feeling that Harry knew exactly what it was that Draco was up to. Obviously, it was none of his business if he had not been informed by Draco himself, but that didn’t stop him from that slight jilt regardless.

Hermione was looking worse for wear, as if she’d been dragged behind a carriage. Her normally peachy face was paler and she had bags under her eyes. Although she smiled, greeted everyone politely and was dressed in fresh clothing every day, there was something off with her demeanor. Just what it was that Snape was putting her through, he couldn’t say, nor could he judge if it was all part of the lesson curriculum. The fact that Pansy being at the table hadn’t even caused a stir from her was evident that she was too exhausted to care. His attempt at friendly banter went sailing over her head as she sat with closed eyes, steadily breathing as in contemplation. When he felt Harry stir to address her, he touched his arm and shook his head, indicating that she needed to do this.

The others let her have her moment of…whatever it is she was doing and talked among themselves. When she came to she methodically ate a hearty breakfast and then bade them all a quick farewell before rushing off to tend to her experiment. Once she cleared the Great Hall, Theo whirled onto his two dining companions.

“Is it just me, or is our dear lioness looking like she’s been in a real lion’s den?”

“I barely see her except for meals. She goes straight to her room right after we head to our dorms.” Harry lamented. “I don’t know what these sessions entail but I don’t like it. She’s going too hard, because that’s what she always does.”

“And if we know Snape-which we all do-he pushes people to their limits.” Pansy added.

Theo pointed at Harry. “Talk to her. I don’t care if you have to immobilize her but she needs to hear your concerns. Because if she doesn’t pull herself out of this before Draco comes back, then you know the shite will hit the chandelier.”

Harry was all too aware of how well Draco would handle the situation, as in, not handling it well at all.  
…………………………..

It had taken the better part of their potion brewing lesson and the short meal she took at dinner time before Harry cornered her in her lab. He was not letting her dash off again.  
“Harry, I don’t have time to talk-” she began but he cut her off with blurting out the one thing that would get her attention.

“Malfoy’s helping gather intel on his father to prove that he’s plotting something with former Death Eaters.”

Hermione dropped her clipboard with a wide eye stare and unhinged jaw.

“Look, I’ve been trying to get five bloody minutes to talk to you about this.” He started in, clearly agitated. “Ever since the day you were in the infirmary after the dodgeball game, he and I stepped aside and he spilled some serious stuff, things I never expected to hear from him.”

He had her full attention now. 

“Hermione, I know he’s good at acting but I saw real fear when he mentioned the very idea of becoming an offering to You-Know-Who.” Her eyes widened. “He overheard his father over the summer. Apparently Lord Malfoy wants him to become a Death Eater/spy to keep tabs on me, and that my name in the Goblet is part of the plot. He’s got Dobby to help find concrete evidence that we can bring to Dumbledore.” He took hold of her arm. “He’s the one who slipped you that page on the Basilisk in second year. He was trying to warn us about all these attempts from the very beginning, because we’ve never got on, we just couldn’t see them for what they were.”

Her breath hitched in her throat.

“I didn’t think it was possible, but Hermione, I don’t believe Draco Malfoy is really all that bad. And he likes you; I mean he really likes you. It’s just been impossible for him to show it. I think…I think what he learned over the summer finally set his priorities straight, and why he’s been different this year.”

After another grueling day of reliving every bitter encounter with Ron and shoving them into her mental scrapbook and sealing it away, this revelation from Harry had taken the last of her strength, and her knees buckled. In seemingly slow motion, she sank to the floor, Harry holding her arm the entire time, gradually descending with her. As if language had failed her, Hermione slightly formed words on her lips but nothing came out.

“Breathe. Please breathe.” Harry pleaded, seeing how still she was.

“Look, I know this is a lot to take at once, and I wish I had been able to tell you sooner so you could process all this, but everything’s been bolloxed up for so long that-”

“Do you believe him?” she interrupted, finally finding her voice.

His green eyes met her honey-brown ones. If ever there had been a silent conversation between two friends, it was here and now, conveying it solely through their unblinking gaze. After a heavy moment of silence, she nodded. It had always been like this between them; somehow, they could connect when the need arose. Something she never had with Ron. 

“He’s helping us.” She stated, somewhere between a question directed at him and clarification to herself. “Why didn’t he tell me?” That moment in the greenhouse came back to her, like he wanted to say something but instead just played with her hair and flirted his way around with that statement about not judging a snake by his scales. Her hand came up to her mouth. “Oh…”

Had it been his cryptic way of saying he was on her side?

Had she not cut their time short, would he have told her plainly as Harry was right now? How could she claim to be the brightest witch of her age if she couldn’t see something like this, right in front of her eyes? Given how everything was so new with Draco, she honestly doubted it would surprise her if he came out as a Veela.

“That’s not all, Hermione.” Harry said with apprehension. “I’ve looked at the Marauder’s Map and you’re not going to like whom I’ve seen on it.”

She held her breath. Who could be worse than Tom Riddle aka Lord Voldemort himself?

“Rita Skeeter.”

She saw red at the mention of that name, clenching her palms into fists, her body radiating with angry energy. Harry immediately sensed danger, that crackle of energy much like the one back in the common room when she first tapped into her power. He placed his hand gently on her arm, soothing her by instructing her to remember her Occlumency training. In her mind she began taking all those articles Rita had written and slapped them into her book, pinning down the emotions of humiliation and anger that tied in with it. She shut and locked the book, storing it away, calming herself.

The cool air of calm surrounded her, her face a mask of serenity.

“Wow, I guess those lessons have been doing some good after all.” He remarked, having seen the change in the brief window from one emotion to the next. “What has Snape been making you do all this week?”

Her face, still impassive; her voice belaying no emotion, she told him. Harry felt a twist in his heart at hearing that Ron was indeed the source of her trigger, and that he played a small part too on that first incident. “Hermione I’m sorry.” He cried, pulling her into a hug. “We’ve all know that Ron has always had a quick temper and is prone to jumping to conclusions. It doesn’t excuse the way he’s been treating you and driving this wedge between the three of us.”

Hermione slipped out of his hug and pulled herself up to her feet. She wiped off her pants and turned back to the table where she was crushing the dried bulbs of both the Dragon’s Breath and Fairy Snowdrop after dehydrating them for days. “Snape said when he was younger; he was friends with a muggleborn Gryffindor girl. And I could tell when he spoke of her, that he cared for her a great deal, almost as if he loved her.”

“No way.” 

She nodded. “He said it was just one mistake of his that sent her into the arms of another man. I think that’s why he’s always so hard on us Gryffindors, because it reminds him too much of the friend he lost.”

Harry crossed his arms. “That’s not fair to us, not like we have anything to do with that. He had it out for me since day one.”

She shrugged as she worked the mortar and pestle. “Maybe you reminded him of the other guy, who knows? But I’m actually starting to see a different side of him. I won’t say it justifies the way he’s treated us but I feel he’s just a lonely soul.”

A dry chuckle escaped his throat. “If there was anyone who could find sympathy for Professor Snape it would be you.”  
…………………………………..

All throughout their grueling sessions, Severus Snape had been mentally cataloguing subtle yet important hints sprinkled within each memory he walked her through. The actions of Ronald Weasley for one, the little moments of intimacy with Draco, and the inaction of fellow Gryffindors who witnessed every encounter.

Like a tally sheet, he marked just how often a fight between Weasley and Granger would have plenty of witnessing housemates, yet none would come forward in her defense, save Potter and Ginevra Weasley. More and more, he felt Hermione’s isolation and betrayal from her fellow Gryffindors that caused her to withdraw more and more from them.

‘So much for bravery and loyalty.’ He mused dryly. 

Even if Hermione was successful in locking away these triggers with just the Weasley boy, it would be impossible for her to cohabit with a majority that more often than not, had taken the side of her adversary. The unrest among them would still cause her to keep her guard up.

It was Thursday after dinner when an unexpected visit from both Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson came up to him in a rush, and an even more unexpected request was made from his two students.

He could barely contain his surprise, but only just so. 

Upon Friday morning, he’d come to a decision of his own design.  
………………………………  
FRIDAY MORNING:

When Hermione entered the classroom, taking a moment to visually look over her week long brew sitting with the rest of the class’s cauldrons, he approached her.

“It seems you have an innate talent for enchanting Slytherins.” He drawled in his usual bored sounding monotone. “I just received a very impassioned plea from not one, but two of my students on your behalf, claiming I’ve been too hard on you. Care to enlighten how you’ve wrapped Parkinson and Nott around those lion paws of yours?”

Affronted by the bewildering statement, she spun around to face him. Before she could make her defense, Snape lifted her chin upwards and peered closely at her face. Her body froze. Snape had never touched her before. No teacher had ever laid a hand on her other than Madam Pomfrey, as it was purely medical. He lifted his wand and pointed it at the ceiling fixture, brightly illuminating the room so much that she had to squint.

“The lighting here has always been shite, but I see it now.” He said out loud as if to confirm something. “You’ve spent much too time indoors, get some sun.”

‘You’re on to talk!’ Hermione thought once he released her. She rubbed the spot his chilly hand touched. Had she ever seen this man step a foot on the grounds? It was one thing to have him in her mind for training; it was another for an unnecessary physical contact.

“I’ve barely spent any time with Theo, and even less with Pansy, so I don’t know what you’re on about.” She finally spouted.

“We can always go right back into those painful memories if you wish.” He challenged, watching for a reaction. “We can go all the way back to first year and see where it truly all began.”

“Why are you so interested in my degradation? Is this some sort of sick power trip against your most insufferable know-it-all student?” she demanded hotly.

Snape smiled wryly, obviously amused. “The insufferable know-it-all who never fails to make top marks, no matter how high I stack the odds. I push you because I see the determination in yourself. You have the makings for greatness.”

The unexpected praise caught her off guard so much that her hand trembled and grasped the table behind her.

“I challenge you at every corner because you have yet to fail. You have not met your limit. If I showered you with praise and fawned over you like a simpering sycophant then you would become lax and complacent.” He crossed his arms, letting the words sink into her thick Gryffindor skull.

“Although,” he added with a slight sneer. “It does irk me that your intelligence and cunning mind landed in Gryffindor rather than Slytherin. Tell me, if you had the choice, which House would you choose?”

She blinked blankly several times. Her mouth felt dry. It wasn’t the first time she’d given the subject a thought, but never addressed with a teacher about it.

“I…I don’t know.” She honestly answered. “If you asked earlier this year, I would’ve laughed at the absurdity of switching. And if you asked me last month, I would have said I’d consider the possibility. And if you asked me last week…”

Her lip trembled as the words died on her tongue.

A probe of Legilimency told Snape the answer.  
………………………….


	28. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Funny how many paths are converging at one point, one location, at once. And it isn’t a friendly reunion.

Molly Weasley had had enough of Ron’s isolation and devastation upon the landscape by Thursday. That night at dinner she announced that she would be sending him back early to Hogwarts in hopes that with a day or two to mill about the castle would bring him back to his friends so they could be on terms once again by the time classes picked up on Monday. She threatened with removing him from the Quidditch team if he didn’t make up.

He chuffed as he prodded at his food, uncaring. He’d done a good amount of training and felt more confident in his wand technique and incantations to handle his own. He wasn’t going to let another incident like the dodgeball game happen again. He’d brushed off all attempts his parents tried at speaking with him, telling him that some things just couldn’t be fixed with a ‘sorry and a hug’ and that he just needed time alone with his thoughts.

Molly and Arthur had always been attentive parents, doing their upmost best to make every child of theirs feel loved and valued. Ron couldn’t help the awkward position he’d been born in, following the twins and followed by the only girl in their brood. Fredrick and George Weasley were a handful of their own, naturally, and he had briefly enjoyed the fruits of being the baby before the princess arrived. Ever since then, he’d have to fight tooth and nail for a scrap of his parents’ time.

He promised he was handling it, and only apologized to embarrassing them, but not for the things he’d said and done to Hermione. He felt no apology was deserved. Considering they’d seen odd hormonal behaviors five times before, they figured Ron had it in hand and would come to his senses in his own way, just as his brothers had done previously. But still, he was returning to school earlier than planned. He didn’t argue and the subject was dropped. After he dismissed himself from the table to begin packing his trunk, the parents quietly asked their other three school-bound children to return with him.

Ginny practically leaped out of her seat at the offer. She’d been tearing her hair out nearly the whole time without a single friend around to alleviate her stress and concerns. 

The twins shrugged indifferently, not like they had plans for anything. 

“And please boys, keep an eye on him.” She pleaded.

“You mean, prevent him from starting more fights?” George asked.

“…Or getting his ass handed to him for starting one?” Fred finished. 

“What?” Molly and Arthur barked in unison.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Good one guys, we nearly made it the whole week.”

“Someone better start explaining.” Arthur warned sternly.

The twins pointed to each other, clearly not up to the task of being the bearer of bad news. Even if for once, it wasn’t about them.

The youngest Weasley sighed as the task silently fell to her. “You cowards.” She growled at them before addressing her parents, telling them that Ron turned on Hermione in an unofficial duel and hit her with two jinxes, unprovoked before Malfoy descended on him with a few well laid punches and kicks. Naturally, the parents were angered and shocked at once.

“So you mean to tell us the lot of you stood there while Draco Malfoy beat on your little brother?” Arthur growled at the twins and then at Ginny. No one bothered to correct him that Ron was not her baby brother but figured it a moot point. They nodded guiltily.

“Hermione had no warning Dad, he just zapped her.” Fred stated.

“And you should’ve heard her scream, she was in pain.” George shuddered.

“He deserved it.” Ginny flatly replied. “I won’t make any excuses.”

“We’re a family, and family sticks together.” Molly said, looking heavily at each one of them. “You’d want Ronald to stand up if you were being pummeled on.”

“It’s different when he’s the wanker that started it.” The feisty Weasley daughter countered. “And the day I need Big Bro Ron to come to my aid is the day I hang up my wand.”  
She left the dining room in a huff, heading to her room to pack. She was done with this whole crappy week and more dwelling on her stupid brothers’ stupid antics. Her loyalty could be tested only so far when she was dealing with it on the daily while her parents were only getting the weekly letters and holiday visits.

Friday morning was a quiet affair at the breakfast table and an awkward drive to the station and a lackluster farewell before boarding the train and an even more awkward and quiet ride in the train car. No one wanted to address the elephant in the room and none did. 

They departed together and rode in a carriage together up to the school, house elves taking care of their luggage so they were free to wander and meet up with friends. The Great Hall was empty save a few late sleepers salvaging what little time was left of the breakfast hour so they headed to the main courtyard, which was known to be a popular hangout when class wasn’t in session.

It wasn’t a terrible surprise to see the familiar faces of Harry, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Luna Lovegood, Angelina, Hermione and Draco. Only they weren’t expecting the way in which they found their friends that was the surprise. One Ron did not take well as the call for a proper duel was thrown down.  
………………………

Harry fully expected Theo to want to continue potion brewing today, but his new Slytherin acquaintance said he had something else in mind and asked if he wanted to join him. Naturally curious, Harry agreed to tag along, leaving Hermione to dine with Luna and Pansy.

“So what’re we doing?”

Theo chuckled. “Ever just go with the flow rather than having to know every single detail beforehand?”

Harry stopped. He nibbled his lip in thought. “You’re right; I usually have some sort of half-baked idea if not a fully-fledged one.”

“Well then,” Theo spun around brightly and walked backwards a few steps as they exited the castle and stepped onto the grounds. “How does it feel to let someone else be in charge for once?”

Harry smirked with slight annoyance at the joke. “Ha ha.” 

His attitude changed quickly as he noted they were approaching Hagrid’s hut. The big man himself was just coming out of the door with a bucket smelling of raw meat and a wide grin.

“Harry boy, good te see yer!” he happily bellowed. “Whart brings you all the ways out here so early when there’s no school?”

Harry merely pointed at Theo, who had promptly turned himself around to greet their groundskeeper. “Ello chum. Come to feed the Thestrals today.”

“Good old Luna’s been thar one doin’ it all this week.”

The brunet boy nodded. “I know, been helping Potter here with Potions but decided to give him a break and see them. Well, not technically see them.” He added with a laugh.  
Hagrid happily handed over the bucket. “Chopped fresh an’ reary to go!” The giant waved them off as he set into the opposite direction, another animal under his care needing tending to.

“Just like that?” Harry gaped.

“Just like that.” Theo echoed. “Very few of us students can see them, so those of us who can sometimes lend a hand in feeding them. It’s not like they’re evil, they’re horses too, they like the occasional attention.”

“Wow.” Harry said in a stunned voice as they approached what looked like an empty corral, but he knew better than that. “You’re just full of surprises.”

Theo beamed. “Falling for me Potter?” he teased, laughing at Harry’s flushed face. He waved off his sputtering, knowing that wasn’t the case. “You are far too easy to tease. But I’ll take the compliment.”

Harry stood awkwardly, not knowing if he was too close, too far, or if was merely there to “observe”.

“You gonna make me do all the work? Come here.” Theo ordered with a wave. “They know when someone can’t see them; you don’t know where to look. And for those of us who can….” He inhaled. “It’s hard to look away.” 

Harry remembered their lesson with Hagrid about them. Only seen by those who have witnessed a death. Ever since his first day here he’d wondered why he hadn’t been able to see them since he was certain he’d witnessed his mother’s death with how the Dementor’s affected him when they attacked the Express at the beginning of the school year. Turned out, he hadn’t seen but merely heard her death, which didn’t settle his nerves any better on the matter. And judging by the seriousness in which Theo, Neville, and even Luna took to the “invisible” creature he spoke of, he knew they weren’t joking.

Luna was a year younger than them, therefore not in most of their classes. And why would Neville Longbottom ever agree to pretend to see something, especially alongside a Slytherin? They had no basis for friendship and other than being on the list of the Scared 28 they had nothing in common. And when pressed, Neville was reluctant to talk about it and scurried off. 

“You’re probably wondering who I witnessed dying, aren’t you?” Theo said as casually as someone asking what his favorite color was. “It’s not something I usually bring up on the first date, being a pretty big mood killer.”

Harry recognized the joking tone and knew it was a deflection off the subject. All jokes aside, it was too personal to ask of someone that they weren’t sure they could call a friend. He felt guilty at being so easily read but didn’t acknowledge that statement even with an apology, for it would be an admission. He just slightly shook his head, not like it mattered.

“They are carnivores, hence the fresh cutlets.” Theo stated, holding the bucket up. “There’s six here. If you like, you can hold the bucket and I’ll feed them.”

Rigorously nodding, Harry silently agreed to that, taking the offered bucket as Theo donned a thick glove and dove into the chum and pulled out a handful of disgusting raw bloody parts. He watched as Theo held his hand up to seemingly nothing and the food disappear as he brought his other hand up to pet the muzzle of the beast. He repeated the progress for each individual Thestral, although Harry had no way of actually telling.

When the bucket was empty, Theo discarded the bloody glove inside of it and beckoned Harry closer. Curious with obedience, Harry stepped forward. Theo gingerly took his hand and brought it up, deliberately slow and with silent permission, and placed his hand on a surprisingly leathery skinned surface.

“Don’t be afraid of them, they’re much like normal equines and can sense fear.” Theo instructed, guiding Harry’s hand to pet the animal and to avoid poking it in its eyes. “They don’t have fur like you’d expect, and their wings look more dragon-like than the feathered Pegasus ones.”

“They don’t…?” Harry’s voiced faltered. This was all quite surreal to him.

Theo expertly moved his hand so now Harry felt the creatures’ neck. The natural trembles of horseflesh and heartbeat drummed under his fingertips. The leathery skin was taunt over a bony body but unlike whatever his mind pseudo prepared him to feel by imaginary bumps or spikes. And under the brunet’s careful administrations, the animal held no objection to being petted.

The whole experience was enlightening. Not merely with touching the fabled creature, but learning the softer side to someone who until just a week prior was an absolute mystery to Harry. It wasn’t every day that he was shown a new faucet of someone’s character-although it seemed to be the norm for this semester-and it was giving him a wider perspective of his very small aspect of the wizarding world.  
…………………………..

Angelina Johnson had spent her Easter holiday at Hogwarts, mostly with the remaining students that were in her year, a few of her friends being in Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw so she dined with them more than at her own table. With her nose to the grindstone on Quidditch plays more often than not, she hadn’t noticed the appearance of certain Slytherins at her House table until Friday morning. And she did not like who was nestled into her boyfriend and brothers’ usual spot.

“Parkinson.” She said stiffly upon approaching.

Pansy looked smug and innocent, as if there was nothing abnormal about her place upon a Gryffindor bench. Harry and Theo had just departed, leaving just the few girls to enjoy their breakfast.

“Morning Angelina.” Luna stated, offering a spot by herself. “Have my housemates hidden your shoes as well?”

Angelina glanced down at her feet. Today she wore thin strapped sandals that all but disappeared against her dark skin. She could understand the inquiry from the girl who was often targeted in such fashion.

“No Luu, not this time.” She smiled at the sweet little blonde.

“Ginny wrote to me last night saying they were returning this morning.” She informed her, knowing that she had been Fred’s date to Yule and they’d been a discreet couple-unlike his younger brother Ron who enjoyed being a spectacle with Lavender.

Pansy sighed. “And here I thought I’d actually have a Weasley-free week.”

“No one asked your opinion.” Angelina snapped. “And I don’t believe anyone actually invited you to sit with us either.”

“You don’t have a problem with Theodore.” Pansy pointed out.

“Theodore is Harry’s potion partner and therefore has an actual reason to be here, unlike you, probably hanging on for gossip to whisper back into the snake pit.”

Hermione had thought along the same lines, hence her minimal conversing since she appeared at their table. It didn’t matter since her lessons and lab project took most of her time anyway. Except today, she was ordered by Snape to go sit in the sun and meditate, to focus on other triggers and catalog them away. Now that Angelina was getting all heated about Pansy’s presence, she lost the opportunity to talk with her one-on-one about why she had gone to Snape on her behalf.

“Nothing really to gossip about unless you wanna share how you can actually tell the twins apart.” Pansy feigned a bored sigh. “Have you dated both of them? Seen the real difference between the two?” she joked with a lustful wiggle of her eyebrows.

“Eww, you slag. That might be how Slytherins play seeing as you have no scruples.” Angelina scoffed; appalled by the very notion the Fred and his brother would even dare try to switch on her. Despite their playful nature, she knew the boys secretly wished for their own individual marker, and what she knew she’d never tell, even to them.

“Last I heard you don’t even like the idea of a mixed race couple so why bother asking if I’ve seen both their cocks?”

Hermione spat out her tea and coughed, pounding on her chest as Luna merely contained a girlish giggle.

“Clearly you’re the beauty of the couple.” Pansy stated matter-of-factly. “But pairing someone as dark as yourself with a pasty faced ginger?” she squintched her face up in disgust. “You look like a horribly mismatched tea set, like fine chocolate and carrot cake.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide. Was Pansy really so racially biased that she couldn’t accept the happiness that Fred and Angelina shared?

“And how does Blaise take your opinion of dark skin?” the older girl shot back, clearly insulted, and rightly so.

“I never said you weren’t deserving of your beauty.” Pansy clarified for her defense, “I merely believe you’d be a far more ascetically pleasing couple if you weren’t with your polar opposite.”

“Good thing I never asked your bloody opinion about my choice of spouse.” Angelina pushed up from the table. “And I think you’ve overstayed any welcome you were granted here.”

The air was tense around the four girls until Pansy made the very smart decision of conceding to the older girl and removing her bottom from the wooden bench. She lingered though, eyes meeting Hermione’s in a secret plea to speak with her. It was as good a time as any, if she was willing. So Hermione took one last swig of tea and also excused herself. “I have an assignment to start on anyways, so I’ll leave you to enjoy your breakfast in peace.”

Pansy departed first as Hermione gathered her bag and brushed toast crumbs off her denim pants. Angelina inhaled a frustrated breath but released a calm one. Hermione didn’t envy her particular foible with the Slytherin, it was beyond her why and how in this modern age that race still played a factor of discrimination even within the wizarding world. It was awfully apparent that wizards were more racially biased than muggles, since they held blood purity in such high regard and traced their family heritage back beyond the usual genealogical point. Every wizard family was well aware of their roots, their origin, their blood like it was a game to see who was the most pure, or the least untainted of all. Like there was a goddamned prize for it or something.

She was surprised to find Pansy out in the courtyard-the very place Snape said she should go to meditate and had to wonder just what she put in their professor’s ear.  
“I believe you’re due for an explanation, for many things.” Hermione said upon arriving at the stone bench.

“You Gryffindors and your brashness.” Pansy tsked.

“Consider it a challenge to actually just say what you mean.”

“A challenge eh?” she smirked. Godric, did all Slytherins smirk? “Is that how you got Draco to bend to your will?”

Perplexed by the notion that Draco was bending to her will at all, Hermione shrugged off her bag and sat on another stone bench. 

“Oh you don’t know do you?” Pansy continued since she hadn’t responded to her previous inquiry. “You really don’t know him all that well-yet-but considering he sent you an apologetic bouquet; he’s already putting himself in your hands. Now I may have been nearly unconscious at the end of our dodgeball game but from what I hear, he was beside himself at what happened to you.”

To that Hermione nodded. “Yeah, I looked a sight after that.”

“You still handed Weasley his ass though.” Pansy laughed. “I certainly wouldn’t let anyone-let alone a friend-throw candy in my face and call me a purist (regardless if that is true) and not seek retribution.”

Hermione’s jaw ticked. She had hoped that little scene was only witnessed by the select few nearby, but apparently her newfound fame drew more eyes onto her than she knew. “Why’d you go to Snape? He thinks we’re friends now.”

Pansy had the nerve to look hurt at that sudden outburst.

“Draco happens to be one of my oldest friends; naturally, if you’re his girl then I’d have my eye on you. But if you’re really curious, it was Theo who made the big fuss. He and Harry are chummy as can be and you’ve been looking worse each day. Now I won’t pretend that I did find it amusing at first, but then it dawned on me that Draco would raise hellfire at seeing you look like utter rubbish and that’s not something I wanted to deal with. Theo had a point though.”

“So…you…don’t hate me?” Hermione asked carefully.

Pansy lifted a corner of her mouth in a thoughtful twist. “I may not entirely approve, but you aren’t like the other muggleborns here, I’ll give you that.”

Was that good thing or a bad thing?

“And I honestly have my sights elsewhere, so it won’t be me that’ll be going for your jugular.”

Hermione took that as a warning. She never expected anyone to approve of whatever Draco’s intentions were with her and fully believed that enough pressure from his friends would eventually cause him to end it. Until last night when Harry finally divulged the truth. Now she had no idea what to expect, what to do when she saw him again. She was uncertain, and uncertainty did not sit well with her.

Pansy dismissed herself so Hermione could meditate, parting with the offer to talk privately should she ever need it. She merely took it as a hollow promise and shut her eyes, trying to ease herself into contemplative numbness from the world and focus on herself.  
…………………….

Draco dressed in a turtleneck and slacks, the long sleeves covering the bruises on his arm and did his best to walk with minimal telling of his injuries, left hand in his pocket and arm close to his side. The marks on his face were light, but against his natural pallor they were quite evident.

-Just a little Quidditch accident, nothing to worry about-

He was a notable Seeker for the Slytherin House; it wasn’t his first time against a bludger or a snitch catch that had him tumbling into the ground. It was too easy to say, too easy to be believed. And it sickened him. Nonetheless, he maintained that Malfoy aloofness and feigned indifference when passerby’s saw his bruised face and slight limp. He knew they all meant well, but every inquiry was a reminder of his failure, of him being yet another disappointment, of the impending danger Harry and Hermione were in.  
His mood soured on the Express ride, taking a whole car for himself and keeping his left side out of sight from the viewing window of the door. There were far too many students returning for his comfort, yet he knew there were plenty more to take the train the following two days. There were always stragglers waiting until the last minute. He wasn’t so lucky as to enter a carriage and keep it for his sole use, as seating was limited. To the two companions that occupied the opposite seat, with their evident and poorly hidden attempt to observe him he sighed. 

“Quidditch injury.”

They nodded with sympathetic noises. Fools.

It almost seemed a waste to know basic Legilimens when surrounded by such withering intelligence. He doubted Hermione would be so easy to read. True, she never felt the need to hide her feelings and thus had little practice in the art of lying, but even before going in for Occlumens training he’d never been able to delve too deep when he did find himself probing at her mind.

Every step closer to Hogwarts merely increased his trepidation. Who to see first? Go straight to the med-wing and be treated by Madam Pomfrey? Find Potter and hang his head in shame? Or see to Hermione and give her the gift from his mother? After the week he had, seeing her face seemed the most important of the three. He could always lay in his hospital bed and let Harry berate him for his failure and wallow in self-pity for the rest of the night.

But first, to see a girl about a book.  
……………………….

Once the carriage stopped he hopped out and halted the house elves before they had the chance to touch the trunks stored on the back end. Politely, he asked for the elf to open his trunk and retrieve the wrapped gift from within. The little creature bowed and popped up the next moment with the requested item. It never failed to amaze Draco the things that the elves were capable of doing at times. Not once did his trunk lid open, so the secret of his invisibility cloak was safe.

Draco shrunk down the book so it could fit in his pocket and then went off in search of its recipient. It wouldn’t surprise him to find her either in the library or perhaps taking in this beautiful fay by the pond, so he did a double-take when he passed the courtyard and noticed that familiar mane of chestnut curls basking in the sunlight. No one else had a head of hair like hers. Just as he was turning himself to approach her, something small and hard pinged off the back of his head and the shout of “Oh fuck.” drew his attention.  
Rubbing the back of his head, he turned to see his mate Theo, alongside Harry effing Potter himself come running up to collect the Snitch they had currently been chasing down the exterior corridor.

The golden nugget buzzed around his head until Harry pointed his wand and recalled it back to him. “Sorry Malfoy, still working on the modification.”

“Modification?” he echoed, unable to hide his curiosity.

“For a ground bound version of the game, that way I could finally get Hermione to appreciate the sport.” He answered.

“Brilliant really.” Theo chimed in, slinging his arm over Harry’s shoulder, slightly out of breath. “Running’s never been my strong point but it’s safer than flying.”

Draco contained the urge to roll his eyes, but a slight turn of his head as he expelled his breath had given his classmates a full view of his face.

“Whoa, what did you do?” Harry blurted out, snapping Draco back to his original stance. 

“Nothing.” He spat out bitterly. “Just a little home Quidditch blunder.”

Harry eyes him suspiciously and Theo knew better.

“Can we discuss certain matters later?” Draco requested with a sharp breath. 

“You should see Pomfrey first.” Theo said. “You don’t wanna look like that when you go see her.” He indicated with his chin that he knew damn well Hermione was sitting a scant few meters away, eyes closed, face bathed in sunlight. Harry though, had to turn and see who he meant as he had not noticed her in his chase for the Snitch.

Harry then turned back to Draco. “I uh….got that note you sent me.” He stated awkwardly, drawing both Slytherins attentions.

Sensing the tension and the unspoken message between the two, Theo cut it firmly in half with his sharp tongue. “Ok you two can quit dancing around the subject.” He firmly stated. “Clearly, you two made some sort of pact that you’re trying to talk about without talking about it and frankly Harry, you’re terrible at being subtle.”

Harry scratched the back of his neck.

“Draco, mate, I thought you could trust me. What’s Potter got going on with you that you can’t share with me?”

The paler boy’s ears flushed.

“Just fucking out with it already.” Theo sighed. “You know I can keep a secret.”

The once rivals shared a glance at each other. Draco nodded. “You’re right Theo, you are my best mate and can keep a secret. But what I agreed to do…it was best if next to no one knew. I still bloody failed though.”

“Failed?” Harry echoed. “Malfoy, Dobby brought me a list on Monday. It’s just what we need.”

“Dobby your former house elf?” Theo asked, looking at the two. “You stealing your inheritance early or something?”

Draco exhaled and shifted himself to lean against a pillar. It did not go unnoticed how he favored his left side as he did. “Theo, has your father ever said anything about you joining in as a Death Eater?”

The brunet made a throaty scoff. “As if we have heart-to-hearts like that. You know how well conversations with him go.”

Draco blew out a breath. “Well he was there on Easter, along with several more. Didn’t get the chance to eavesdrop as I had to drag a near hysteric Daphne fucking Greengrass away from the party only for her to make threats against Granger-which she fucking followed through on- giving father a copy of the school paper with that ridiculous Skeeter article.”

“Oh blimey.”

“And Monday, he spent the better part of breakfast beating it into me how shit like that wouldn’t be tolerated when the Dark Lord returns.”

Draco was never one to admit weakness or defeat, but Theo knew the guarded secret. They often found solace with each other, away from their fathers, just hiding out and cursing their shameful treatment with a nicked bottle of firewhiskey, sometimes cracking jokes on how they’d take revenge once they became legal adults.

With this bold statement spoken out loud, Draco brought his right arm across his torso and lifted the left side of his shirt up, revealing the bruised ribs. Bitterly, he addressed Harry. “I’ll have you know, ever since first year, every fucking achievement you made he beat me for. How much I disappointed him, bested by not only a muggleborn witch but the famed Boy-Who-Lived who could do no wrong.”

Harry felt bile rise up in his throat.

“And if Daphne hadn’t brought that damn article up I might’ve had the chance to slip into his study, find something. I might’ve been able to get him to talk with me. But I fucking failed in spectacular Malfoy fashion. So while I was getting Crucioed on my dining room floor, Dobby must’ve used that time to get in. Bloody perfect. Hope it was fucking worth it.”

“Malfoy…I…”

“Don’t.” Draco held a hand up at him. “Don’t need your pity.”

Theo stepped up and punched Draco in his right arm, then grabbed him as he nearly toppled over from the unsuspecting impact. “And you couldn’t let me in on this? Bloody hell mate, I would’ve helped you! I would’ve said anything to my father to get him to think I wanted in if I knew you were trying to take them down! What the ever loving fuck got you to think you could do this on your own?!?” he bellowed as Harry quickly swished his wand over them and cast a Muffliato, effectively cutting the most of the tirade off from being overheard.

Draco didn’t have it in him to refute any of it. His friend was right. He should’ve confided in him, they should’ve worked as a team. He thought having Dobby would be enough to be covert rather than a friend that could he wasn’t sure would be convincing enough.

“Fine Theo, next time I’m on a mission to usurp my father’s plans into resurrecting the darkest wizard of our time, I’ll ask if you’re up to it.”

“Don’t be a snarky git.” Theo growled, pushing Draco into the wall. “Bloody Malfoy pride…thinking you’re fucking invincible.” He grumbled before turning the tone into a sharp reprimand. “I hope you got the sense beat into you this time.”

Harry subconsciously rubbed his arm, eyes off to the side as the two friends carried on about the apparent child abuse that had been a deeply guarded secret.

“Malfoy, I don’t pity you.” He said once their heated words had cooled their tempers. “I know all too well…hiding the marks….claiming to be a klutz, accident prone, just being too rowdy…” he shuddered as one particular memory flashed in his mind. “I lived in the bloody cupboard under the stairs almost ten years, surviving on table scraps and hand-me-downs. The Dursely’s would’ve been all too happy if I had died with my parents, they made that very clear.”

Both Theo and Draco stood silently, eyes slowly filling with empathy. The abuse may not have been the same, but it was still there, shaping who they had become. It was something that wasn’t spoken about and as long as one didn’t make waves, it didn’t happen. Mostly.

“I’m sorry your father took it out on you. I guess it was all too easy to hate me. I’d say that I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy….” He trailed off, the rest not needed to be said. “But Dobby found a list. It is evident that it’s a dark magic blood ritual, just the kind of thing we need. I’ve held off on showing it in case you had more to bring, but it’s fine that you couldn’t.”

“Wow, what a hell of a morning this has been.” Theo laughed, easing the tension between the three. “Welcome to the Fucked Up Father’s Club. I’d say that calls for a bloody drink, age be damned.”

“As much as I would love to agree to that, I have a certain someone I need to speak to.” Draco replied wearily. At his tone, Harry perked up. “I doubt we’ll talk very long. Better to get it over with.”

“Do not even think about.” He suddenly growled, pointing a finger up at him.

“Whoa!” Theo exclaimed, grabbing Harry’s wrist before Draco could even consider biting the digit off. “Back up. What else is going on that I don’t know?”

“You promised me you wouldn’t.” Harry continued on as his potion partner held him back. “Don’t tell me you’re going to do it.”

Draco shamefully cast his eyes aside. “She’s not safe with me. I can’t risk another article or desperate act from Daphne.”

“DON’T.” Harry deeply intoned, his voice a warning that was clearly on the verge of following through with his promise. Theo was actively struggling with keeping the two separate. He gave him a hard enough shove to make Harry take a backwards step, using that second to spin around and face his blond friend. 

“I’ll deal with that cow, but don’t you dare follow through with what you’re thinking. Because I’m not going to be able to hold Potter back forever.”

Draco dragged a hand over his face. “Either choice I make is still going to hurt.”

“Then make it fucking worth it mate.” Theo barked, arms spread out to prevent Harry from going around and grabbing Draco by his collar. “You spend years admiring her from afar and finally get her to acknowledge you, so Do. Not. Let. Her. Go.”

At Theo’s impassioned demand Harry stopped thrashing against him and exhaled deeply. His respect for the skinny Slytherin rose exponentially.

Running a hand through his platinum blond hair, Draco inhaled painfully. He’d been debating with himself the entire way to the castle, wondering just what to say to her and what to do about the two of them, circling the subject far more than he cared for. Having not just Harry but his own best mate Theo jump down his throat and literally order him not to end things with Hermione had been exactly what he needed. These two had no idea how much of a lifesaver they had just become. 

Nodding, he promised he would do no such thing, doubting that she’d let him get away with such an act unscathed. With his word, Harry cancelled the Muffliato and they stepped back. Draco smoothed out his clothing with what little dignity he had left in his possession and exited the corridor, onto the courtyard pathway.

“Years?” Harry asked, seeking confirmation.

Theo chuckled. “Years mate.”

……………………….

Hermione felt his presence before he took the space next to her on the stone bench. He may have been quiet, but her mental exercise had made her acutely aware of her surroundings. She also sensed unease.

“You’re early.” She stated softly.

“A wizard is never late, Master Baggins, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.”

Her eyes popped open. Her heart did a little tumble as she turned to see him sitting opposite of her, to her right, his right side visible. “Did you seriously just quote The Lord of the Rings?”

“When a muggle writes an epic novel series based on wizards and elves, even those of us in the wizarding world give it a read.” He chuckled. He bet she only believed he read works published by pureblood authors-and though his father might’ve, he broadened his literary horizons with the occasional muggle classic.

One look at her face though, and he knew whatever he had planned to say would’ve merely add to the distress so clearly evident from her Occlumency lessons. Dark circles under her eyes from stress and little sleep. He didn’t have it in him to break her heart, thank Theo for setting him right. “Your…lessons?” he weakly asked.

She licked her lips and sighed. “Productive.” But her tone said volumes more. It wasn’t like her to give one word answers. Her hands fiddled with a loose thread of her distressed jeans, not meeting his eye.

Silence carried on the breeze between them, awkward for them and infuriating for their audience, still standing in the shade of the exterior corridor.

“Granger, I-” he began, but she cut him off.

“Don’t try to soften the blow.” She said. “Just go ahead and say it. And then we’ll go back to the way we were before.”

“What?” his jaw slackened for a second before righting himself. “No, that’s not what I’m doing.” He reached for her hand, feeling her flinch as he took it. “What made you think…?”

“I could just feel it. You were thinking of it, just now.”

"Hermione look at me.” He tugged her hand, earning him the turn of her head. “I did think it, but not from wanting to. I had the foolish notion that it would be the best way to get Skeeter’s focus off you.” He wasn’t even going to address how she knew what he’d been thinking; it probably permeated off him in his short walk from the boys.

“You’re injured.”

He shrugged. “Just a tumble on the old home Quidditch pitch.” God he hated this pathetic excuse.

She scoffed. “Home Quidditch pitch. Probably right along with an Olympic sized swimming pool, personal squash court, and a stable full of exotic winged horses.” She smirked at him, daring him to contradict her. The tips of his pale ears burned pink with genuine embarrassment at how easily she dismissed the manor’s luxuries.

“I guess nothing impresses you.”

“Not material things.”

He considered that as he remembered the present in his pocket. “I may get you to reconsider that.” He had her attention now. Even though the gift was in the right side, it still pained him to shift upon his left side to extract it. So much so that Hermione stopped him.

“Why haven’t you seen a Healer? Don’t the Malfoy’s have their own physician on call or something?”

“It’s not that bad.” He lied. “I’ll see Pomfrey afterwards.”

“You Quidditch jocks.” She rolled her eyes. “And every one wonders why I dislike the sport so much.”

“So it’s not just because you’re rubbish at flying?” he joked. He loved seeing the fire ignite in her eyes at that jab. But her smile said she agreed wholly with it despite herself.  
“Well, any further lessons from you and Harry and I might just be on par enough to join the team.”

At that, he totally lost it and laughed with every ounce of genuine delight and rocked with waves as he clutched his sides, tears pooling on his lashes at the thought of Hermione Granger playing Quidditch in Gryffindor robes.  
………………………

Theo and Harry turned to each other with wide eyes. Neither of them had ever heard Draco Malfoy laugh like that before. Whatever she said to him had struck deep past the outer layers of ice.

“That girl is amazing.” Theo gaped with admiration.

“Yeah.” Harry beamed. “She is.”  
………………………

Draco’s guffaw echoed off the castle walls, loud enough to turn heads from other students milling about the courtyard and pavilions nearby. Once he regained control he slid off the stone bench and was able to dig the little parcel out of his pants pocket. He placed it in her open palm, but remained kneeling in the grass as it was just easier on his ribs to stay stationary.

“Aww, it’s adorable.” She cooed.

“You should know, this is actually something my mother selected for you.” He said, nervous as to what his mother had in mind. “Had I been able, I would’ve chosen something from our personal library, but it looks like she anticipated that.”

At the words ‘personal library’ he saw a light in her eye as her head snapped up. Ah ha, so the non-materialistic Gryffindor thirsted for the written word even outside of school. He figured as much. He bet she’d faint at the sight of the magnificent Malfoy library.

“I feel like Belle.” She giggled, running a fingernail along a seam of the wrapping.

“Wait, let me resize it first.” He offered. “And who’s Belle?”

She watched as the package-that she obviously could tell was a book-grew to its original size in her lap. The weight of it was worth its weight in gold to her, there was much contained within the inch thick tome.

“It’s one of the recent Disney films, came out shortly after my birthday in ’91. A retelling of the French tale of Beauty and the Beast only this heroine loves to read and her father is an inventor, they’re social outcasts but because she’s beautiful she’s adored by everyone in town, especially the town bully Gaston. Her father gets lost in the woods and stumbles upon a derelict castle inhabited by enchanted objects and a beast-which is a cursed prince-and she offers herself as his prisoner in his place. Over time as she stays at the castle, she and the beast become friends, and he gives her his personal library. And ohmygod Draco, it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Even in an animated movie.”

Her fingers ran over the soft cream colored wrapping paper, almost ashamed to tear it. Draco may not have understood every word she said, but he clearly felt the passion and familiarity of the character she spoke of.

“So what happens next?” he asked, actually curious to hear the rest of the story.

She smiled. “You really want to know?” He nodded.

“Well, the servants in the castle can all see a change in him as they spend time together, and there’s this beautiful song in the dinner scene and they dance under a golden chandelier, and she’s in this gorgeous dress and her hair is pulled up-”

“Like how you looked during Yule?” he asked with adoring grey eyes as he rested an elbow on the bench seat. He considered her bright flush all the confirmation he needed as she tucked a hair behind her ear and cleared her throat to continue.

“Anyway, the beast realizes he loves her so he sets her free, and she finds her father out in the forest, almost frozen to death. When she gets back to the village Gaston has rallied everyone to believe the beast is dangerous and locks her up in her cottage and leads a mob to storm the castle.”

He hung on every word, almost able to visualize the scene for himself.

“…and by the time she gets there, he’s bleeding and dying, saying that he’s happy he got to see her one last time. Just before the last rose petal falls she says I love you and all these lights start falling from the sky, surrounding him in light, transforming him back into a human. And he is pretty cute as a human, not gonna lie.” She laughed. “Everyone changes back into a human, and she and her father end up living in the castle, happily ever after.”

A serene silence followed as she came down from the high of regaling the fairytale and brought her eyes down to the gift in her lap. Draco stared at her adoringly, watching that vibrancy in which she exuded in everything, even something as simple as talking about a ‘moovie’. Gingerly, he brought his index finger up and grazed her knee, drawing circles along it idly. “So…if you’re Belle…then who would I be?”

She brought a hand up over her mouth to mute the snorty giggle determined to escape her nostrils. “What you mean to say is, do you believe I see you as Gaston or the Beast?”  
He bit the inside of his cheek. “Well? Which one am I?”

Her finger drummed over the hard surface of the book. “I’d say…a little bit of both actually. You definitely were a Gaston towards me for the past three years. But this year, you’re more like the Beast. After getting to know you a little, I see you as more than your gruff exterior.”

“So I’m a cursed prince and you’re a bookworm able to see the good in people?”

Her hand stopped caressing the book. His hand stopped caressing her knee.

Brown eyes met grey as the innocent joke hung in the air between them.

Resting on his knees, he was only a few inches under her height, granted, she wasn’t sitting up straight either. The distance between them was mere inches as well as several miles in that moment. It felt like she had a Time-Turner once again, watching a precise moment in her life from the outside.

“Eh bien, ma Belle, suis-je ta Bête?”* Draco purred in perfect French, straightening his spine and leaning into her personal space. 

Hearing the words ‘my belle’ and ‘your beast’ did weird things to Hermione’s brain, which in essence, caused it to stop functioning all together. And seeing those stormy grey eyes bore into her own so intensively caught her breath in her throat, making her mouth run dry. Was he really asking what she thought he was asking?

“Vous êtes.”* She answered, seeing a glimmer of sunlight shine in those wicked eyes of his. The last thing she acknowledged was the sight of four familiar ginger haired figures entering the courtyard as his lips met hers.

................................  
*Well, my Belle, am I your Beast?  
*You are.  
………………………….


	29. Duel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kiss between Draco and Hermione sparks intense jealousy in Ron, who throws down the gauntlet, wanting to duel Draco. Hermione accepts the offer and an explosive fight goes down in the courtyard with several witnesses.

After that bout of joyous laughter from Draco, Theo and Harry took a moment to enjoy the rare sight before strolling down the corridor, chuckling to themselves. Theo took this moment to spill to Harry some of Draco’s secret crush on Hermione as a little payback for being left out of the loop on the spying mission.

“So honestly, it’s because of his father that he behaved the way he did.” Theo concluded after sharing what Draco said about her before finding out about her blood status. “But everything we’ve been raised to believe has completely been destroyed, and she’s living proof of that. He can’t help but be attracted to the one thing he’s been forbidden to have.”

Harry kicked a pebble as they rounded the exit of the corridor. “Sounds like he’s not the only one.”

“Calling me out are ya?” Theo snorted. He shrugged. “Can’t say my admiration is the same as his. He made his claim long ago and I respect the rule of friendship to not even think about trying to move in on a girl he has eyes on.”

“And if he hadn’t?”

“Like I said, my admiration isn’t like his. I could see me being her friend, maybe even going so far as to play pretend boyfriend to keep a creep off her back, share a little lip peck, but not much else.”

Harry nodded. “I think you’re a decent bloke.”

Theo cocked his head to the side. “Decent eh?” he chuffed. “I suppose that’s a good start.”

“Gimmie a break, we’ve only been civil for a week. Until now, you’ve just been another Slytherin.”

“Ouch.” Theo dramatically placed a hand on his chest. “So honest. But you’re not half bad yourself there Potter.” Theo stopped suddenly, eyes fixed on the scene before them. “Oh my god, would you look at that?”

Harry whirled and saw Draco Malfoy sullying the knees of his slacks, sitting on the ground with eyes fixed on Hermione as she animatedly described the story of Beauty and the Beast like she was a kindergarten teacher and he her enthralled student.

“He looks spellbound.”

“Usually does when he thinks no one is looking.”

“How have I not noticed this before?”

“Oh, I think you have, you just mistook it for something else.” Theo explained. “I swear, the fucking visual tension between you guys and your glares was something else at times. Some rumors flew ‘round that you and Malfoy had a thing for each other.”

“You’re kidding.”

Theo shook his head. “Merlin’s truth.” He held up a hand. “Entertaining as it was, we had to do damage control, hence the whole Pansy and Draco thing. They were convincing although by doing that they realized they didn’t like each other in that way.”

They both turned to see Draco lean in close and say something that sounded an awful lot like French.

“Oh shit, he broke out the French.” Theo chortled. “Won’t be long now.”

He practically counted it down, right as Draco and Hermione met in an all too magical, in-a-world-of-their-own kiss, so much so that the book he’d given her slid off the bench and into the grass, still wrapped as he pulled her in closer to himself. “Yes!” he cheered to himself with a little fist pump, turning to Harry for a high five.

The moment of jubilation deflated though, when Harry’s hand came down, he met the obviously confused and agitated face of Ronald Weasley. The accusatory stare from those bright blue eyes made Harry feel like he’d done something wrong, although what, he couldn’t say.

Angelina and Luna entered the courtyard, waving happily to the ginger quartet upon their arrival with Angelina bounding up to her boyfriend, although George tried once again to fool her by jumping up to greet her first. She simply dodged him and wrapped her arms around Fred, who couldn’t contain his sly dog smile.

“Oh come on!” George whined. “Even our own Mum can’t tell us apart!”

Upon hearing George’s protest, Hermione suddenly jerked out of Draco’s grasp. His hands immediately pulled back and gripped the bench as if they’d been caught doing worse.

“Oh please, don’t stop on our account.” Ron snarled. “Just the thing I wanna see before I even make it to the common room.”

“Then run along Weasel.” Draco shot back. 

“Ron, have you literally forgotten what Mum said?” Ginny sighed. “Just leave them be.”

“And you?” Ron spat at Harry. “Turning your back on me after only five days?”

Harry was stunned. Surely Ron couldn’t think that their friendship could be so easily replaced after just a week without each other? They’d spent longer than that apart before he’d been allowed to stay at the Burrow in the summer.

Theo was tempted to throw his arm around Harry and land a playful kiss on his cheek just to fire up the Weasley runt even more, but he noticed Draco wince as he tried to stand. Forgoing the urge to be an ass, he went over and offered his hand to his friend. With as much dignity and posturing he could muster Draco was unable to completely hide his pain.

Hermione leaned down and picked up the book, tucking it into her bag. “I’ll open it later.” She promised him. Now was clearly not the time.

“Not without me.” He countered, as if it was another challenge.

“Aren’t you two just the cutest?” George laughed, clearly feeling like an odd man out by not having a girl on his arm.

“No, they’re not.” Ron glowered.

“Jeez little bro, relax. You got a girlfriend remember?”

“The wrackspurts don’t flutter over Ron.” Luna stated, as if that was given proof of his lack of genuine feeling for Lavender. It caused Hermione’s stomach to clench up, as she was already aware of it.

“Well, there you have it.” Theo dramatically waved his hand. “The wrackspurts have spoken.”

“Does he see them too?” Luna asked Ginny. Ginny in turn took her arm and started to lead her away from the escalating situation when Pansy made her way into the courtyard, curiously driven by the crowd and raised voices.

“Weaselrunt being jealous again?” she joked for her grand entrance.

“Shut up you Slytherin slag.” Ron hurled at her. “You getting your weird kicks watching your boyfriend snog Granger?”

“Don’t you fucking talk to her like that!” Draco yelled over Theo’s shoulder as he was being detained from leaping right at the ginger’s throat.

“Whoa! Ron, what’s your problem?” Harry cried, trying to step in between.

“My problem are these fucking Slytherins sneaking their way into Gryffindor knickers and how everyone seems perfectly fine with it!”

Hermione angrily flushed, feeling her magic radiate off her fingertips. Again, Draco tried getting at Ron but was held back. Had he not been injured as he was, he could’ve easily shoved Theodore aside and pounced. Harry just shook his head, completely at a loss as what to say or do with his so-called best friend.

“Ok that’s really enough now.” George declared, grabbing at his collar but was shrugged off. “Little help Freddy?” he called over to his twin who was wrapped in a comforting hug with his lady.

“Am I really witnessing this?” Pansy leaned over to Ginny who sadly nodded. This was entirely too embarrassing to put into words.

“I’ve had it with this pale arsed little ferret!” Ron hollered. “I challenge you to a duel.” He whipped out his wand and aimed it in the direction of Draco and Hermione, who immediately stepped forward with her own wand brandished.

“Challenge accepted.” She replied coolly, eyes dead set on for former friend.

“Oh no you don’t-” Draco began to protest but was cut off.

“You said the wizarding way to deal with someone is to challenge them face-to-face, and that is exactly what I’m doing.” She knew damn well Ron had intended for Draco to take the challenge, he’d seen the brief moment of Draco’s weakness and decided it was now or never to finally best him.

In front of nearly a dozen witnesses, with her boldly accepting, she was calling his bluff if he backed out against her. And no one else could step in and fight in her place as she was fully capable and willing.

“Well Ronald?” she narrowed her eyes at him. “Cat got your tongue? Or do you concede?”

“Fine then. You and me sweetheart.”

Draco’s eye twitched at the snide nickname. Harry had backed over to his other side and was now standing with Theo as a way to prevent him from intervening. He damn well knew that challenge was directed at him, but damn it all to Hell Hermione had been quick on the uptake and grabbed that bull by the horn, turning it on herself. And he knew because of his injuries it would’ve been bloody suicide to engage in a duel, and even though Hermione was unaware of the extent of them, she was taking his place.

Fucking Gryffindors….

Stepping away from the courtyard seating area, Hermione and Ron took their ten paces away from each other, with Ginny acting as referee, counting each step out loud.

Fred leaned over to George. “Five sickles on Hermione.”

Angelina scoffed at the audacity of Ron’s own brothers holding bets against him.

“You’re on.” The twin replied, shaking his hand.

Pansy stepped up to Draco, seeing his face. “Lucius?” she asked, all too aware of the history between father and son. He stiffly nodded, the only acknowledgment he would voice with so many around. She gave him a gentle hug, hearing him grunt as she touched his tender left side. “You’re going to the infirmary after this.” She ordered him.

“Yes Mum.” He jokingly replied, eyes fixed on the impending duel.

“Don’t worry,” Pansy whispered reassuringly. “He doesn’t stand a chance.”

Hermione and Ron stood, backs facing each other. At the signal, they would turn and the duel would commence. Ginny motioned for everyone to keep a safe distance a few meters back in the courtyard proper. The air was rife with magical tension, practically crackling. 

Theo spoke softly to Harry, standing at his side. “Can’t imagine this is easy. You can’t really want either one of them to win, nor lose.” Bravely he touched Harry’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. All Harry could do was choke on the thick lump wedged in his throat as Ginny announced the rules to the gathering crowd. Other students lurking about the castle had become aware of the scene and were gathering to witness.

“…and remember, no interference from witnessing parties. This duel concludes when either participant can no longer stand or engage with magic, disarmed or not.”

Using every ounce of her Gryffindor courage, she spoke clearly, loudly, and with a neutral tone that belayed her inner turmoil of brother and best friend about to destroy each other. She left the middle of the dueling range and stood by Luna, who squeezed her hand. “Begin!” she cried.

In a time-slowing whirl, the two participants faced each other and raised their wands. 

“Expelliarmus!”

“Stupefy!”

Hermione’s wand flew out of her hand at the split-second quicker spell, rendering hers ineffective as Ron still dodged the fizzling bolt sent in his direction. Disarmed but not dismayed, Hermione began to run as bolt after bolt of Confringo and Incarcerous were aimed in her direction. She knew if she remained still she was a target, thus feinted her movements into a zigzag formation.

With a push of her hand, she called out “Depulso!” and watched Ron fly back and slam into a tree. He wasted no time in retaliating with Locomotor Mortis and Deprimo, effectively locking her legs together and blasting a hole in the ground upon which she stood. Watching Hermione get swallowed into the ground made several onlookers jump, with several more holding them back.

“No interfering!” Ginny had to yell over the crowd despite every instinct to run after her friend. Thank Godric that Luna was still holding her hand or else she might’ve been broken that rule herself.

Ron darted to advance, wand brandished with a smug look on his face that Draco wanted rip off and shove down his throat. “Come on out Mione,” he teased in a nasal singsong pitch. “I thought you wanted to play…”

Harry felt his knuckles crack with how hard he clenched his fist. Theo winced but allowed him to continue. He needed an anchor.

“How deep is that hole?” Pansy whispered, but given the breath-holding silence, she might as well have shouted it. Not a sound had come from the hole, and the general consensus was that Hermione had been rendered unconscious.

As he approached the edge of the cavernous opening he peered down, seeing nothing. Surely the hole hadn’t been that deep…unless she cast Nox to hide-

-with an incredible burst of energy, the wild haired witch emerged from the cavity, levitating herself in the air, heavily concentrating on keeping her body straight and upright and landed a kick square to Ron’s chest, sending him sprawling.

Several gasps and cheers uproared at such an awesome display of magical control, oddly enough from the twins themselves. Most students could barely levitate inanimate objects with such delicacy, hence why levitating yourself and others was prohibited to avoid injury.

Upon landing on one knee she took off at a run, charging and slamming right into Ron as if she were in a game of rugby. They collided in a sickening crunch of bodies with him grabbing a fistful of hair and slamming her head into the dirt as he rolled on top.

“Figures you’d resort to fighting like a muggle!” he shouted as she slapped at him, screaming in fury and the pain of having her scalp at his mercy. He pointed his wand directly at her throat, pressing the tip into her flesh. “Silencio!”

Her scream was effectively cut off, as was the very sound of her breath that she fought for as his heavier form crushed her chest.

“You’re no witch, writhing in the dirt like some filthy little pig.” He sneered as he blocked a swing at his face once more. He leaned down so his next taunt could only be heard by her. “Just a filthy Mudblood, is that what you like being called after all, Mione? Is that what he whispers in your ear as he touches you?” As he mocks her she can feel his wand trace over her throat.

White hot fury fired in her veins as he reared a knee up to his groin, followed by a familiar right hook to his eye, effectively pushing him off her prone form. Rendered speechless, she had to resort to her wordless incantation, mentally Accioing for her wand, wherever it was. 

Just as she felt the handle of her precious vinewood her vision went black as he cast “Obscuro!” and a dark band of cloth wrapped around her eyes. Her first instinct now was to protect herself, throwing up a Protego just in time to deflect whatever attack came next, for it ricocheted off and suddenly there was a resounding crack and several voices screaming for cover.

She felt her shield rattle as another attack-a Bombarda this time-hurled against it. The ground under her vibrated as she fought to stay on her feet, relying on her hearing for her opponent’s location. Ron was systematically stripping her of her senses one by one, already stealing her two most important in dueling. She knew he’d target her hearing next if he couldn’t just knock her out, whichever he was trying to accomplish first she had no idea.

The shield was withering with each blast against it, and she was relying on her internal source of magic to concentrate on her wordless ability as well as focusing her ear to account for his whereabouts.

Then she heard it, the shuffle of his shoe in the grass.

She dropped the shield and focused for mind and wand on one simple spell: Stupefy.

Her legs stun like fire as she hit the ground, unsure if was the jelly-leg or stinging hex he managed to zap her with, but when nothing else came she was certain her strike landed true. She let out a heavy breath, silently of course, and was suddenly enveloped in several pairs of arms. Her first instinct was to fight back, and she did push the first pair of hands away, but several more gathered her up to her feet and then something swung under her knees and she was held in a single air of arms, her own going straight for the neck for support.

The cacophony was too much to make out individuals, even the one holding her, but she recognized his scent: Harry. Of course it would be, Draco was too hurt to hold himself upright, let alone carry another. She hoped he was nearby though, hoped he was proud of her victory. She thought back to her schoolbag with the book she had yet to unwrap inside and wondered what on earth could Narcissa Malfoy ever figure to give her?

It was her last coherent thought before she lost consciousness.  
………………………..

“…it’s the last straw, we’ll have the resorting ceremony and see if moving into another house is the course of action or we expel him.”

“I for one, am all for the latter.”

An unamused scoff followed that remark. “They are both my students and I must find a way to end this civilly. To think, they were such good friends.”

“They were never friends on their own.” The grave monotone voice stated. “It was merely a bi-product of them both being acquainted with Potter, nothing more.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say Severus.”

“I have seen it.” He countered. “Have you forgotten I have been in her mind all week to teach her Occlumens? I have seen far more of that girls’ life here than I ever cared to, but I have learned much.”

A shift of her body suddenly ended the debate between scholars and they turned towards her. McGonagall was in a state of motherly concern, her hair undone and haphazardly wisping out from under her hat. She placed a softly wrinkled hand upon her students’ brow with a gentle touch.

“You won’t be able to speak yet, don’t be alarmed.”

Hermione weakly nodded.

“You also suffered a concussion, a sprained ankle and several small lacerations that have already been tended to.”

Hermione moaned in her throat, only feeling the vibration. Her eyes were curious, inquisitive, and silently demanding answers.

“We’ve taken the liberty of interviewing the many witnesses to your little…skirmish.” Snape drawled in his usual bored tone with a slight hint of something that bordered on amusement or annoyance. “All the Weasley siblings confirmed that Ronald spent his time training and appeared itching for a fight. He was determined to have a duel, although it originally against Malfoy.”

“Is she awake?” Draco’s voice piped up from beyond the curtain barrier.

“It would appear young Malfoy took a rather nasty tumble off his broom while on his Quidditch pitch and suffered two cracked ribs.” Snape continued as if Draco hadn’t interrupted. Something about that sentence made her believe there was something else he was not saying, and if spending a week with that man in her head had taught her anything, it was the little inflections that belayed his stoic exterior.

Hermione’s eyes widened at that revelation. 

“Had you not intervened no doubt his injuries would’ve worsened, so he is clearly in your debt.” the potion master declared, and loud enough for Draco to overhear. “But for future reference, the next time a duel is challenged; do not insert yourself without consent.”

“And there will be no unsanctioned dueling for the remaining year.” McGonagall sternly warned. “We are hosting the Tri-Wizard Tournament to honor our school for the first time in two hundred years, let us not make a mockery of it!”

Clearly, that warning for all ears capable of hearing.

Hermione looked around in the all too familiar school infirmary and exhaled ruefully. She damned Ronald Weasley to the depths of the Black Lake and back again for putting her in here yet again. 

“I want to see her.”

Minerva McGonagall rolled her eyes. “Yes Mister Malfoy, we are all aware of what you want.” She replied in a heavily exasperated voice dripping with the last of her patience.  
Hermione heard a throat clearing followed by “I’m sorry Professor, may I please see her now?”

The look the Gryffindor Head aimed at the Slytherin Head was nothing but a clear and smug ‘I Told You So’ before the elder woman pulled back the curtain that separated the two beds. Draco was resting in a bed of his own, off to her left. Was it by design, so she would only have his unmarred right side to look upon? She wouldn’t put it past him. Injured with cracked ribs and he was more concerned about which side she could look upon.

-Draco, Thy name is Vanity.-

At the summoning of McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey arrived and bade her to drink another potion as she ran her wand over her bedridden form. “I might as well reserve a bed for you my dear, you’ve made it your goal to become my number one patient.” She delivered in that tight voice that made one curious if it was a poor attempt at humor or her deadpan straightforwardness.

Hermione grimaced with embarrassment. And frustration. She wasn’t going to get any work done in the lab today, nor have the opportunity to tell Draco about all the ways she’d been procuring samples from the plants. Professor McGonagall departed as the Medi-witch scuttled off to another curtain bound bed, flinging the fabric for a second, revealing the resting and bruised form of Ron. She felt a strange sense of fear at seeing him despite his condition.

Snape saw her eyes go wide and how the cadence of her breathing changed, silent as it was. He turned to glance at the antagonist and returned back to Hermione. “If it’s any consolation, you won the duel.” It wasn’t much consolation; instead her breathing quickened and pupils shrank. A hand grasped at the bedding, knuckles turning white. Quickly, Snape was on his feet and pulling the curtain to block the sight of her red haired adversary. “Madam Pomfrey, a calming draught. Now.” He ordered.

Draco shifted in his bed, curious as to what was happening but silenced when Snape held up a hand to prevent him from saying a word. Madam Pomfrey came around with the phial and without even looking at her; Snape snatched it from her hand and pressed into Hermione’s. “Drink.” He ordered of her. The nurse immediately recognized the signs of her distress and placed a hand on her forehead.

“Miss Granger, drink it or I will make you.” He said in a voice that left no room for argument. Hermione nodded and tipped the bottle up, draining the contents.

Snape pulled Madam Pomfrey aside. “Place Weasley out of her sight. This little episode started the moment she saw him. She’s clearly exhibiting signs of traumatic stress.”

Upon hearing that, Draco shifted himself gently and quietly out of his bed. He’d been given a dose of Skele-gro to heal his ribs and Dittany for his abrasions. When giving their testimonies, he only entrusted Snape to peer into his mind and know the truth as to why Hermione took his place in the duel. As his godfather Snape was aware of the level of punishment often given by Lucius’ hand. He slipped past the curtain and sat on the edge of Hermione’s bed, taking hold of her left hand.

“Hey.” He whispered softly.

Her dilated pupils and languid smile were evident signs that the calming draught was working. A genuine smile stretched further across her lips as that beautiful pale face of his came into view.

“I wish you could speak back to me, but for now, all you can do is listen.” He lightly chuckled. “No interrupting.” He pointed a finger at her. “You fought brilliantly today, course, when do you not? But I’m tired of seeing you constantly throw yourself headlong into danger. You don’t have to keep proving to everyone just how great you are, everyone already knows. I think it finally sunk into Weasel’s thick skull this time.”

She lifted her cheek with a smirk.

“We’re going to have to play this carefully, you and I. We can’t draw anymore unwarranted attention. This is of course, my fault, thinking I had it all under control.” He sighed. “I know you’re clever enough, we’ll find a way. But I’m never calling you the M word again. Ever.”

He squeezed her hand.

“I still can’t believe you even forgave me for doing that for two whole bloody years.” He shook his head. “But you are the bookworm who sees the good in people, even in a beast like me.”

Her chest warmed at the little inside joke that was wholly theirs. She crooked the finger of her right hand, beckoning him closer. He leaned down, just a breadth away from her face. He expected her to tilt her head back and pull him into a kiss, but she surprised him by bringing her hand up and running her fingers through his hair, just as silky as she expected it to feel. 

“And now you’re petting me.” He delivered dryly. “I suppose I deserve that.”

Her chest vibrated with silent laughter.  
…………………………….


	30. Friendships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the holiday comes to an end, several students come together. A new alliance between old rivals forms as they begin to see past the old prejudices. Romance is in the air for some, while beautiful friendships are just coming into bloom.

By mid-Saturday, Hermione had only regained enough of her voice to whisper or speak with simple answers, and then to exercise restraint in most social gatherings. For the more in-depth questions or conversations pieces she wanted to express, she had to resort to writing them out. Her first and foremost question was what happened after she’d been blinded by the Obscuro spell.

Ron had been treated for his injuries sustained in the duel and then detained in the detention cell. An owl was sent to the Weasley’s in regards to his actions and punishments. Snape made it adamant to Dumbledore and McGonagall that Ron was to be kept away from Hermione, Madam Pomfrey backing his claim of traumatic stress by his presence.  
Sitting out in the courtyard again, surrounded by the familiar pack, Hermione looked at the ground, retracing her steps of the battle. The hole had been refilled but the soil was loose and uneven with the rest. She barely contained the shudder that rippled through her at the memory of falling into the black pit and the pain shooting up her ankle when she landed.

Harry guided her over to where she and Ronald wrestled. Bile rose in her throat as she felt her head slam into the ground, his fist pulling a handful of hair and twisting, nearly wrenching it from her scalp. Her hand went to the spot, it still felt tender. “Mione, you ok?”

She blanched, hearing that nickname.

“Don’t. Call. Me. That.” She whispered with glacial intent. Draco pulled up behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist. He could feel a tremble of rage and fear emit from her.

“We don’t have to go through this; it’s still fresh in your head.”

“I need to know what happened.” She replied hoarsely, already losing what little voice she had.

Draco and Harry shared a look, and then glanced over to the bench and the tree that had taken the brunt of the spell. The others; Theo, Pansy, Ginny, Luna, the twins and Angelina had thought standing by the tree was far back enough and had just been where they congregated when the duel began. They had no idea where they stood would potentially put their lives at risk.

Her Protego was thrown up at the last possible second to be effective, thus not quick enough to swallow the impending Aguamenti which caused the thick stream of water to sharply bend and shoot at the tree, effectively slicing several branches off that had everyone ducking for cover.

Pansy had thrown Draco to the ground and covered him, nearly knocking him unconscious with how hard the air whooshed out of his lungs but inevitably removed him from the spot where a large branch was on a collision course. Theo had all but thrown Harry away from him and backed himself against the trunk, only getting his foot banged up in the process. George had grabbed nearby Ginny and Luna as Fred shot a Protego over them, Angelina included.

Course now the tree stood, repaired quickly enough so that the branches could be adhered and continue to grow naturally. Had one not seen the damage they’d never know. Hermione shuddered to think that her friends had been in danger, caused by the recklessness of her and Ronald dueling too close to any nearby obstacles.

Sensing the wave of nausea sweep over her, Draco led her to sit on the bench.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered to them all.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Harry immediately stated in response. “If anything, it should be us apologizing for not choosing a safer place. But what’s done is done.”  
“And you totally annihilated him, both physically and magically.” Pansy cheered. “Just like I said you would.”

“Hey Pans, I think I see Longbottom.” Draco said, jerking his chin over in the direction. Upon seeing him she waved, inviting him to join them. “Really now?” he smirked at her.  
“Yes really now.” She growled, kicking his foot. “Shut up.”

He held his hands up in mock surrender as Hermione watched the exchange, understanding the sibling-like way they bantered much like she and Harry did. Nervously, Neville approached, probably because there were more Gryffindors than Slytherins in the group.

“This is an unusual gathering.” He said, holding a basket just reeking with sugary confections, making Harry’s mouth water. “Where’s Ron?”

“Detention.” Theo piped up, seeing the distress on several friends’ faces. “Little prick started another fight and Hermione the Great finished him off like the queen she is.”

“Hey,” Draco barked, “Ease off the compliments, leave some for me to use.” He possessively wrapped his arms around Hermione’s waist and watched with delight as Neville’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull.

“Ah yeah….that happened too.” Harry brilliantly explained with a hooked thumb at the pair.

Neville looked to Hermione for confirmation. She nodded with a sweet smile. “It’s ok Nev.” She whispered with a hand lightly pressed to her throat. “I need tea.”

“And Neville brought sweets!” George exclaimed.

“Just in time!” Fred finished, transfiguring a napkin into a tablecloth. He held out his hand and helped Angelina settle to sit. Over in a patch of clovers, Luna was braiding Ginny’s hair and weaving flowers into it as she went. Another transfigured tablecloth was set out and suddenly an impromptu tea party was underway, a hot pot and several teacups delivered by summoned house elves. The strangest one Neville had ever been to, but nonetheless he shared the baked goods from his grandmother and gave Pansy a flower from his Gran’s garden: a white carnation. 

“I’m sure you’ve been given field’s worth of pansies in your life, so I thought this would be a nice change.” He explained with tinted cheeks. Pansy accepted the flower graciously, tucking the round fluffy blossom behind her ear.

“Oi! Leaving me out of the loop?” the unmistakable snark of Zabini’s voice broke the serene moment, leaving Theo and Draco to roll their eyes.

“What took you so long?” Pansy sighed as if she’d been waiting all week for his return. “Actually have a good time?”

He scoffed at the very idea of actually getting along with his current stepfather and sniffed the air. “Oh my sweet Merlin, is that cinnamon?” he asked with unabashed lust.

“Head’s up Neville.” Draco warned. Hermione giggled in her throat when Blaise lunged at the basket, nearly landing in Harry’s lap as Neville held the basket away and Theo took it, sprinting away from the tablecloth tea party, eliciting the twins to join the fray and play a game of keep away, three against one. It was the funniest thing any of them had seen all week, and sent everyone into fits of laughter even after Blaise finally secured the basket, nearly crushing it in the process, and stuffing the sticky bun into his mouth so much he almost choked.

All the while, Angelina had pulled her camera from her purse and snapped pictures of the event, scrapbooking being her hobby right after Quidditch. Never in a million years would she ever expect to be sitting and having a civil tea party with several Slytherins and a little Ravenclaw, somehow weirdly bonding after a brutal Gryffindor fight.

Dying with curiosity over the lab, Theo had all but yanked Hermione’s arm off in excitement to show Draco all the hard work she’d done. At the invite, Harry joined them. Pansy and Neville set off for a walk together-alone together-and Luna and Ginny hadn’t even bothered to get off the grass, just continuing to work on each other’s hair. Fred and Angelina opted for their own couple time, leaving odd men out Blaise and George to their own devices, so naturally they started talking Quidditch.

Theo led the way to the lab, chatting the whole while, saving Hermione’s voice. He presented the room as if it was his own castle, soaking in the surprise upon both Harry and Draco’s faces. The setup was pretty self-explanatory, seeing as she had everything neatly labeled and took excellent notes. What samples had been collected were catalogued and stored away neatly. There was now enough to begin experimenting with what the potential potions could do.

“Wow Granger, you really did all this for only two hours each day?” Draco exclaimed, seeing more progress than he expected.

She nodded happily, beaming at his wide eyes.

“I knew you were brilliant, but damn.”

Harry closed the lab door behind them after checking the hall. “The coast is clear but I’m still taking the precaution.” He announced, casting a Muffliato over the door and Collorportus to lock it. “Since Theo is now on board with the whole preventing the return of Voldemort, I figure now is as good a time as any to talk.”

“Really Potter? We were having a moment here.” Draco sighed, wrapping his arm around Hermione, who in turn, playfully smacked his arm. “I think I like it better when you can talk, you hit me less.”

Harry pulled out the parchment Dobby had brought to him on Monday, which made his blood cold. He hadn’t even shown it to Hermione, not wanting to agitate her further. Apprehensively, he held it out for all to see.

Draco read it out loud, unnecessary but also helping it sink in.

“Bones of the father. Flesh of the servant. Blood of the enemy.” Notes written by each line were the most damning evidence. Named for his father, Tom Riddle, the wealthy muggle who abandoned his pregnant wife upon finding out she was a witch. His mother was the last in line of the House of Gaunt, descended straight from Salazar Slytherin himself and had used the Imperius curse and a love potion to beget a husband and child-to which she died birthing. The family plots weren’t hard to find and the locations of which had been scribbled in haste beside the bones ingredient. A cemetery in the village of Little Hangleton was where they would be procured.

“I’m sure by now they’ve already got those.” Draco sniffed with disgust. “I don’t see my father willing to sacrifice his own flesh, so a lower ranking member of the Death Eaters looking to garner favor would more than likely be willing. And I think I know who.”

The other three looked up at him.

“That rat Pettigrew.” 

Ever since learning that Peter Pettigrew was the one who betrayed and led to the deaths of his parents, Harry hated that man’s name as much as Voldemort himself, and it disgusted him how he’d been Ron’s “familiar” for the past three years of their stay at Hogwarts, and he’d blissfully ignorant of it the entire time. Sleeping mere feet away, the man that was responsible for him being an orphan, for living the shitty life he had with the Dursley’s, for never knowing the wizarding world the way he was meant to-

Hermione placed a hand on his arm, snapping him from his dark thoughts as he realized he’d bitten his lip hard enough to draw blood. He wiped it away, cheeks flushed with anger.

“Is there a reason you reacted to his name like that?” Theo asked, searching Harry’s face and seeing a deep seated anger burning within his bright green eyes.

Nostrils flared, he spoke quietly, yet with darkness. “The reason my parents died. And he lived as my best mates’ familiar all this time, right beside me, until last year. If I had known, I’d have fed him to Crookshanks myself.”

“Not your fault Harry.” Hermione whispered.

Draco cleared his throat. “And that brings us to ingredient three; your blood.”

“That’s definitely some Death Eater dark magic bullshit.” Theo agreed.

“I’m sure by now Father knows this list is missing. Not that it’ll prevent a damn thing, but it might bring more suspicion on me from him.” He turned to face Hermione. “He might have spies keeping tabs on me, and you.”

“I’m not scared.” She proclaimed, taking his hand. “I can handle my own.”

“That I have no doubts of.” He replied. 

Theo rolled his eyes at the gushy display between the two. “Oh get a room.”

“You’re in it.” Draco snipped back, eyes still locked onto Hermione’s as he tightened his grip on her. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to her.

Harry cleared his throat, calling for everyone’s attention. “There’s another matter to discuss. I don’t think Professor Moody is really Alastor Moody.”

He pulled out the Marauders Map, sharing its existence with two more people, Slytherins no less, but two that felt he could trust better than his own best mate-even if he wanted to consider Ron that after what he just did. Unfolding it he incanted the phrase “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.” And watched the marvel unfold in their eyes.

“No. Fucking. Way.” Draco gaped. 

“Bloody brilliant!” Theo exclaimed, reaching to touch it. “Who made this?”

Harry shrugged as he beamed with a little pride. “My father…and his friends.”

“WHAT?” both Slytherin students cried in unison.

Harry held up his hand. “Long story short; he, Professor Lupin, my godfather Sirius and Pettigrew made this back when they were students. Fred and George stole it from Filch’s cabinet and gave it to me a couple years ago. They had no idea, but Professor Lupin told me about it last year before he was sacked.”

“Man, your dad was pretty bad ass.” Theo gushed. “Fucking Pettigrew.” He spat.

“Yeah he’s a real little shit. Sniveling little bastard. I think living as a rat for twelve did a number on his brain.” Draco snorted, looking over Theo’s shoulder. “Hey, look, it knows where we are.”

“It knows where everybody is.” Harry corrected. “And there lies the rub, because I’ve never once seen this map say Alastor Moody. Unless someone knows how to change their very DNA, because even with polyjuice, the map still knows who you are underneath.”

“That’s incredible. How’d they manage that?” Draco asked, fully immersed in the inner workings of the maps’ function.

“Haven’t really had the time to ask.” The Boy-Who-Lived answered with an awkward head scratch. “But I have no idea who Bartemius Crouch Jr is, do you?”

Spine chilling silence befell the room. Harry realized that yes indeed, both Malfoy and Nott knew of Crouch Jr and it did not bode well. As Hermione continued with the care of the plants, both sons of Death Eaters filled Harry in, informing him of what they knew from their fathers and the papers, that Barty Crouch Jr was a Death Eater himself and a loose cannon. Having done time in Azkaban and yet somehow escaped even though he was thought dead and had a hand in the torture of Neville’s parents, and a litany of other heinous crimes.

They looked at the map, finding no name of their DADA professor, and ironically, not Crouch’s either.

“Figures.” Harry grumbled.

“We should keep an eye on him. One of us spy at the map while class is in session, just to confirm.” Draco suggested.

“How?” Hermione asked, frog in her throat.

“I have my invisibility cloak.” Both Malfoy and Potter replied in unison.

Theo cracked up, slapping his knee. “Oh my gods, you two are absolutely made for each other.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at Nott’s joke but still lifted her lip in half a smile. “Only one of you.”

“I’ll do it.” Harry offered to everyone adamantly shaking their heads.

“You’re his favorite.” Draco pointed out.

“And you’re his pet ferret.” Harry scoffed.

“Boys…” Hermione warned, stretching her voice to its limit.

“Fellas, mates, chums,” Theo drawled, waving his hands for their attention. “Look at me. I’m practically invisible as it is already. One of you loan me a cloak and I’ll do it next class. He won’t notice if I’m not there. You three on the other hand stick out too much.”

Hermione snapped her fingers and pointed a finger-gun in agreement, not wanting to strain her voice anymore.

“So that’s one vote from the mute.” Theo remarked. “What do you say?”

They nodded.

“Brilliant then.”

Harry folded up the map. “Mischief managed.” He tucked it into his back pocket.   
……………………………..

After concluding their little war meeting in Hermione’s lab, Draco insisted on taking her to the herb garden to find one of several plants to ease her sore throat, leaving the green-eyed pair to their own devices, if they wanted to brew a potion or chase a Snitch on foot, he didn’t care.

Soon they found themselves strolling along the pathway where they shared their first kiss, that memory all too evident as the blush crept across her face. His chuckle brought her attention. “Thinking of something that happened here recently?” he teased.

She scrunched her face up at him in faux annoyance. Of course she was thinking about it, it had been her first kiss after all. He laced his fingers through hers and brought her hand up to his lips. “I was thinking of it too.” He confessed. “Believing it might be the only chance I’d ever get.”

A little whine escaped her as she breathed heavily from her nostrils, her chest feeling tight. Her eyes darted wildly off to the side, focusing on anything other than him. That didn’t last long though. He took hold of her chin, bringing her face-to-face. “Now that won’t do at all.” He tsked. “You should at least look at me when I’m complimenting you; Merlin knows I have a lot to make up for. Although I think I’m liking Shy Hermione more than Idiotically Brave Hermione.” He chuckled.

Again, another smack to his arm.

“Oof. I’m gonna start counting these as invitations to just pin you against the nearest wall and snog the living daylights out of you.” He grinned ferally, grey eyes glinting like a predator locking onto its prey.

She shook her head and held her hand up as to promise she wouldn’t do it anymore, making just the tiniest of whimpers in her throat of protest.

He laughed and continued holding her hand, walking with her towards the garden. “Keep your eye out for marshmallow root, licorice root, or ginger. Either one of those will be excellent.” She nodded, and in but a few moments they found what they needed. “Shall we stop over by Hagrid’s for tea?” he asked, loving the utter shock take hold of her face at his suggestion.

“Oh you don’t know?” he continued in that smug, nonchalant tone. “Yes, I drink tea and chat with our groundskeeper now.”

Had he not been holding her hand Hermione believed she would’ve dropped to the ground in a faint. Draco Malfoy was an enigma. One she was all too willing to learn the inner machinations of and be kept in constant awe of.   
……………………..


	31. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the few that know, just having their acceptance means everything. Even if it means it must be hidden. Because it’s worth it.

Draco was practically beaming as he led Hermione to Hagrid’s hut, allowed the big man to clamp a hand on his shoulder and welcome him like an old friend, all to her stunned silence, sore throat aside. At the sight of the collected herbs in her hands and her sheepishly pointing to her jugular notch, Hagrid completely understood and set a kettle over the fire.

Draco gentlemanly pulled out a chair for her and seated himself as Hagrid gave the plants a quick rinse off and joined them at the table. At the sight of the two teens before him, Hagrid gave a knowing look to Draco and a beaming smile at Hermione.

“So, this here is really heppening?” he inquired.

Hermione’s mouth gaped open as she turned to Draco, unaware of any previous mention of her, or them, in any capacity to anyone, let alone Hagrid. The blond simply ignored her response and continued on as if it merely another one-on-one chat. Frustrated at not being able to interject, she huffed and waited for the water to boil while idly spooning a glob of honey into her mug. Draco informed him of the duel that transpired, despite her adamant grunt and grip on his arm.

Draco shook his head. “Sorry but he has to know.”

Hermione winced as she felt her eyes burn with the threat of tears. She didn’t want Hagrid to have to hear about it, hoping against hope that somehow her feud with Ron would end amicably. But Hagrid nodded along and poured the water into their mugs and sighed sadly at the drastic change in Ronald Weasley. 

“How’s Harry takin’ to aller this?”

Hermione stirred her tea. Draco inhaled. “He’s been spending time with one of my best mates, seeing as they’re Potion partners. Theo’s doing what he can to help Potter.”

“And tha rest of tha Weasley’s?”

“Hard to say. Obviously, Ginevra sides with Hermione, the twins…I think they’re split. Not like I’ve gone up and asked them.”

Hagrid grumbled into his beard for a moment, shaking his head. “They’ll see to Resortin’ him I reckon.”

At this, both teens’ heads snapped up. “Resorting? Is that even possible?”

“Oh it rarely ever heppens, so rare in fact that whenever a student is resorted they call ‘em a Chimera.” He informed them. “Mind you, I was a student here decades ago, back before Tom Riddle became You-Know-Who.”

“What’s the requirement for a student to be resorted?” Draco asked, knowing Hermione was just as curious as he was.

Hagrid crossed his massive arms. “Oh I surppose it has to do wit what the Sortin’ Hat sees in ya. It uses Legilimens and gets a read of yer innermost thoughts, sees if you’ve changed yer mind on things. I reckon if ol’ Ronnie’s been a bully and such, then he might just as well end up in Slytherin.”

“Oh hell no.” Draco said, nearly dropping his mug. 

“Why Slytherin?” Hermione rasped.

“Because that’s where all the bad apples are, obviously.” Draco growled. “You know there’s no way in Merlin he’s going to last if he gets resorted into there. And it won’t just be from me.”

Hagrid shrugged. “Whart can I say? Ain’t my decision to that but I ony ever seen it heppen once. A Hufflepuff went dark, ended up in Slytherin.”

“Figures.” Draco scoffed, raking a hand through his hair.

Hermione sat in contemplative silence. She knew Ron absolutely hated the whole Slytherin House with a passion. If anything, he was a Gryffindor fanatic, his loyalty to his house being held in the highest regard and anything less than unity among lions was seen as treason. She doubted very much that if the Hat was placed on him that it would see him as a candidate for any other House. Being a Gryffindor was everything to him, while for her, it meant very little.

The subject changed on to more pleasant matters, the tea helped her esophagus relax enough to speak, albeit softly. When they finally parted from the lengthy tea time with their groundskeeper the sun had shifted position and a southern breeze tossed her hair up from behind over her face. Huffing with indignation, she started flipping it back, feeling a hand that wasn’t hers rake through the wild mess.

She glanced up, finding a pair of grey eyes gaze softly down at her with a look to them she’d never expected to receive. “Before we go inside…” he whispered with a pained voice, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to hers. “Just one moment with you, like this.”

He breathed deeply, the scent of her shampoo, that familiar drug in his nostrils. It was almost enough to make him forget the pain of the entire week. “I don’t want to have to hide you, not when you’ve finally decided…” He stopped. “You have decided, right?”

“Oh, so now you ask.” She snickered. “Here I was thinking that I was supposed to just sit and look pretty.”

He pulled his head back. “You’re right, I completely bypassed that part. You’d think with how this was ingrained upon me that I’d have all this planned out perfectly.”

She laid a hand softly on his chest. It still felt so surreal to be touching anybody, let alone him, like this. “You’re human Draco, or have you forgotten that little tidbit? I don’t mind the occasional misstep. Some of the best things happen from an accident, or unplanned moment.”

The hands that were running through her hair stopped and pulled her waist closer to his body, embracing her body heat. In the cold and stillness of Malfoy Manor, little touches like these simply did not happen. The feel of another so close was foreign and addictive. Now that he’d felt how soothing and warm it was to have someone-no, her-in his arms he never wanted to let go.

“So you’re mine?” he asked, no playful tease in his voice. Just real innocent hope.

Now was the time for the Gryffindor courage if ever, although she had physically faced far greater dangers than standing here with a Slytherin boy asking to be officially together. Matters of the heart were far more dangerous to play with. Doing this meant being vulnerable, becoming a target from other pureblood supremacists, from those who couldn’t see past their own house unity.

Would it be worth it?

Seeing Draco Lucius Malfoy turn from sneering, insult-hurling spoiled prat to unsure and gentlemanly, book-quoting romancer was enough of a miracle in her eyes.

“Depends.” She said after such a lengthy pause.

“On?”

She tilted her chin up. “That I’m the only girl. I won’t share.”

He flashed her a genuine, perfectly white and straight smile. “Good. I don’t share either. There’s no other witch that can compete. You’re the best. And I only go for the best.”

She chuckled. “Ok now you really do sound like Gaston.”

He smirked. “One of these days I’m gonna have to see this story, just so I know which one of them I really am. But there’s no changing you, My Belle.”

Her face heated up intensely, flashing from her normal peachy complexion to bright pink in an instant. He had no idea how she already related to the character, not just for the love of reading but physically as well. Belle was the first brunette Disney princess with hazel-brown eyes, with hair that constantly got in her face and a brilliant mind that went underappreciated by nearly everyone except her own family. He had no idea what hearing that comparison did to her heart.

My Belle.

She liked the sound of that.

On her toes, she pushed up to meet his height, gripping onto his shirt and pressing her lips to his. All too eagerly and ready, he met her enthusiasm with his own, craning his neck down so she wouldn’t have to balance on her toes, allowing her hands to travel up across his clavicles and wrap around his neck like a cat climbing a tree. 

He allowed the wind to fling her hair over his face, the curls tickling with fairy kisses as he breathed her in like a saving grace. She had no idea how dear she was to him, and he’d be damned if his father’s threats were going to impact him here. He was more than determined than ever to thwart his plans and get himself out from under his father’s ever-pressuring thumb. He’d forsake the Malfoy name if that’s what it took. Hermione Granger was worth it.

When they parted from their kiss and agreed to go back inside the castle, Draco inquired about his mother’s gift and when she wanted to open it. She agreed to bring it back to the lab after dinner, for him to meet her there. With no further ado, they separated and spent the remaining hours with their respective housemates until time for dinner. It was an honest struggle to refrain from quickly devouring the food before them and rush back to the lab, but they managed to behave with calm dignity like they always had previously before she excused herself from her table, him following a beat later.

As soon as he closed the door behind him, he cast a Muffliato and Collorportus like Harry had done just hours previous. Time with Hermione was going to be precious, no matter what it was they were doing, and he was not going to let an interruption spoil anything. To her credit, she was avidly working on the plants, carefully removing the anthers from the Dragon’s Breath and crushing the thin yellow strips to collect the dusty pollen and poured the contents into a glass tube.

She wasted no time in the pursuit of knowledge, and he adored her for it.

He stood, hands clasped behind his back, but leaning over her shoulder and watched her work in collecting the samples and notations. She had a method and he was not going to disrupt it. Half of him wished he had just stayed at the school all week, working with her like this, learning more about her with each day. He so badly wanted to leap the ground he’d lost by being her adversary and know everything about her.

When she concluded he all but jumped to attention but only barely managed to make it look like he was going for the stool to sit. She pulled the neatly wrapped gift from her satchel and placed it on the table, hesitant.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She licked her lips nervously. “She’s…not…gonna curse me…is she?”

He let out a withering laugh. “No, in fact, she’s been aware of my feelings probably as long as I have. I just never confided in her because of Aunt Andromeda. She married a muggleborn and was disowned and burned off the family tree, considered a blood traitor and dead.”

Her spine stiffened. He reached over and ran a hand along in circles to comfort her. He felt the shifting shudders that came with suppressing cries. He slid off the stool and wrapped the arm around her as he stood at her side. “Hey, don’t worry about what will happen to me. It’s something I’ve already considered if things go down that path.”

She turned into him. “What?” she rasped hoarsely. 

“Wizards plan for the long haul My Belle; most wizards my age already have a betrothed and marry within the year of graduation. It’s all to ensure the future of the bloodline, especially among the Sacred 28. So I’m sorry if it seems like I’m rushing things, it’s just what I’ve been raised to do.”

Her hands trembled as she ran a fingernail along the seam of the paper. With bated breath she unraveled the sheathing and was presented with a gloriously gilded edged thick tome of Floriography with a jewel emblazoned cover and ornate golden metal corners. The amount of gold and jewels on the surface of the book alone made it the most expensive thing she’d ever held in her hands. And this was ‘just a book’ from the personal goddamn Malfoy library.

“My mother loves this book.” He whispered in awe at the importance of the literary piece and the fact that she was willing to give it away.

Hermione pulled her hands away as if burned. “I can’t…no…” she shook her head. “It’s too much.”

“How is it too much, it’s only a book on the language of flowers?”

She gestured wildly to it. “Tell me those are NOT real emeralds? Real gold?” she whisper shouted to save her voice.

He fell silent. Of course they were real, why wouldn’t they be?

“Just…how rich are you?” She almost sounded terrified.

He shrugged. “I honestly don’t even know. I’ll receive records when I come into my inheritance but even then I wouldn’t put it past my father to have secret accounts, hidden illegally gained treasures or a whole damn island with chests buried in caves to keep it off the books.”

Hermione braced her hands on each of her temples as she digested what her imagination could only fill in with that vague answer. 

“I thought you said you weren’t impressed with material things anyways.” He replied flippantly, just a little affronted that she was behaving like this gift was a bribe. “My mother obviously knows how much you treasure knowledge, and this book, this means more than just its worth in galleons. This means she approves.”

He pointed a finger against the jeweled surface and tapped the central gemstone, a yellow topaz cut into a rhombus. He’d seen his mother lovingly caress the cover of this book as she read it to him, teaching him everything he’d ever need to know about flowers; their origins, historical importance, meanings, color variations and rarity, and how important it was to carry on the tradition of having a daughter in at least one generation with a floral name. Half the witches he knew bore flowery names. The book also carried enchanted specimens frozen in a stasis spell to preserve seeds and pollens should a natural blight wipe out entire fields. The knowledge contained within the century old tome was invaluable, despite its fancy outer décor.

“Can you imagine me carrying this around to Herbology? Potions? Even in my own dorm I’ll be accosted once this is seen.” She pointed out, voice cracking with pent up emotion. “It simply is too elegant for a teenager to be carrying around school.”

“I’m not sending it back.” He warned in that heavy tone that told her there was no room for negotiations. He flicked open the cover and sure enough, her name had been written as its new owner. “Here, see?” he snapped, picking up the book to literally hold in front of her face as an envelope slipped out and hit the floor.

Hermione bent down to pick up the envelope as Draco set the book back on the table surface. The front simply read: Miss Granger in an elegant looping scrawl.

“That’s my mother’s writing.” He stated, motioning for her to hand it to him.

“It’s addressed to me, prat.” She pulled her hand back and stuck out her tongue.

He picked up the little school issued herb filet knife and handed it to her, handle first. Careful not to cut him, she slowly retrieved the blade and slid it across the top of the seal flap and handed it back to him. The letter was folded neatly, nothing inside the envelope as she set it down. It unfolded like an accordion revealing one of the most beautiful hand-written manuscripts Hermione had ever seen. It was a little overwhelming. Her raw throat already had been tested with her little spat, she didn’t have it in her to read it out loud.

Conceding defeat, she handed it over to Draco, who had the good sense not to appear smug about it as he sat back on the stool and cleared his throat.

“Goodness, Mother really went all out here.” He mused, eyes scanning over the first few lines before taking in a breath. “Dear Miss Granger, I trust this letter finds you well. I had not the time to prepare my son for this gift to you, so it may come as a shock to him. I do hope he behaved graciously.”

Hermione snickered. The woman knew her son well.

“Anyway,” he coughed, “I do apologize for anything he has had to say to you in order to protect you. Please rest assured that any cruel words or disingenuous acts performed in front of witnesses is merely for their entertainment for my husband simply cannot learn the true nature of your relationship. I would love nothing more than to receive you properly as an esteemed guest and welcome you to our home were it not for his radical beliefs and unsavory associates.”

Death Eaters. Somehow the woman made them sound like mobsters rather than cold bloodied murderers. What a way with words.

“I know you have a generous heart, one capable of seeing the light trapped in the darkness, and your forgiveness can never be measured. My son should thank Merlin every day that he has with you, even if it must be behind the façade of a school bully. He has informed me of your S.P.E.W. program to help House elves, starting with the Crouch’s former elf Winky and the events at the Quidditch World Cup. A noble cause that I shall make an anonymous donation to. Do give Dobby my regards as well, he was a sweet fellow.”

Draco’s voice choked and he had to stop.

A moment later after clearing his throat, he continued. “I do hope you’ll enjoy this book as much as I did in my youth. It is important for every young witch to understand the gift of her courting wizard. I have no doubt you’ll give Draco a run for his galleons, being the bright witch you are. Consider it a belated birthday gift.”

Draco looked up from the letter to see Hermione with her hands over her mouth, eyes glistening. He set the paper down and slowly pulled her into his arms as her breath hitched, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“Yeah, so…uh…my mother approves.” He said off-handedly but he was nowhere near the master of humor that Theodore Nott was. “Come on Hermione, it’ll be alright.” He soothed, rubbing his hand along her back. “Crying just makes your face a pink mess or have you forgotten that?”

Her humorless laugh was muffled in his chest. He flung his head back in exasperation. He really was uncomfortable with seeing a woman cry-especially his mother, on the rare occasions-and was not equipped with the skills to handle it. 

“You suck at this.” She said in a sniffly voice.

He nodded. “I know. It’s not in my repertoire of skills.”

“But I know you mean well.” 

A moment later her head snapped up, catching on his chin and knocking him back a ways as she spun towards the table and grabbed the letter. Draco was clutching his mouth and groaning, trying not to fall off the stool as he watched Hermione’s fierce mahogany eyes speed read through the missive until she reached the part that made them widen to nearly twice their size. She started hopping up and down, smacking the paragraph, words failing her in her moment of discovery.

“Whump?” he asked, massaging his jaw and thanking Merlin he hadn’t bitten his tongue. She thrust the letter at him and pointed wildly at a particular line until he batted her hand away like an annoying fly. He followed the line, suddenly putting it together. His eyes met hers, catching her infectious excitement.

“Winky!” they exclaimed together.

Winky: the disgraced and disowned house elf that once belonged to Barty Crouch Jr and his father. If anyone could prove the identity of Professor Mad-Eye Moody, it would be a magical creature who worked in the same household and would have lived with that distinct magical signature every witch or wizard had. Like a bloodhound on the scent of prey, she could point him out.

Only one problem with that. Ever since being disowned Winky had become an absolute slobbering drunk, wallowing in despair and shame. They had their work cut out for them if they were going to sober up a self-pitying elf on a nine month long bender.  
……………………


	32. Resorted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Come Sunday the school gathers for an announcement and a shockingly rare Resorting Ceremony, only it’s not whom they expect to be switched that sets the school into chaos.

By dinner on Sunday, all the students had returned to the school. An announcement was called for all students and faculty to attend. A spell was cast that would drive all bodies to the Great Hall despite their reluctance, for anyone thinking they could slip past unnoticed were in for a rude awakening when the Summoning spell compelled them against their will to head that way.

It was not every year that Dumbledore had to employ the use of the Every Body spell, but it was highly effective. Considering the matter which was to be discussed, no one would be complaining about being forced to attend.

The four tables; Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin-in that order-stood parallel with each other, filled with students of all years as the evening meal began. The fifth table, running perpendicular to the quartet was where the staff sat and enjoyed their meals, Dumbledore seated on a throne-like seat in the very middle. The minority by far, all the professors could sit alongside each other and faced their wards during mealtime.

Midway through dinner Dumbledore signaled to the Deputy Headmistress to his side and cleared his throat before standing.  
…………………….

SUNDAY MORNING:

Enjoying her breakfast with all her fellow Gryffindors-sans Ronald-Hermione felt better than she had in weeks. She was overhearing a humorous tale from the Weasley twins and except the withering glare from Lavender; all was well with her housemates. That was, until Professor Snape showed up like a looming ghoul and demanded her presence in his class once she finished her meal.

She slumped her shoulders. Ugh. Not another Occlumens session. She had hoped her week of torture had concluded on Friday but that was too much to ask for. Savoring every last bite, she waved to everyone and promised to see them later, her voice still easily strained if she laughed too loud or shouted to be heard, so she still had to speak with her “library voice” if at all.

Lifting her leg up over the bench, her head turned and her eyes fell upon that set of beautiful stormy sky eyes and platinum blond fringe of loose bangs. How long he’d been looking was anyone’s guess, but once they met the entire room of bodies disappeared into white noise and the distance of four tables shrank down to inches apart. Just that tiny smirk and wink was enough to send her heart up into her throat and let loose a whole migration of butterflies in her stomach.

The flush on her cheeks and minute dip of her chin was all he needed in response to his initial signal. In a furl of her knee length skirt and swish of her hair, she was exiting the table and strolling along the length of the dining hall and slipping through the entrance door to her dreaded lesson.

In the dungeon classroom, she found Snape idly fiddling with a potion bottle, turning it just enough so that its label was clearly visible. “I had hoped that Friday would’ve given you the serenity needed to focus on other matters.” He spoke the moment she entered the room as if they were already midway through a conversation. “I trust you were able to accomplish some assemblage of that before your rather abrupt duel?”

“A little.” She answered honestly as she approached the usual seat where they usually gathered for their sessions. “Are we really going to do this? Didn’t you get your testimony from everyone who was present?”

“They’re not the ones in need of Occlumency.” He stated, taking his seat. “And if you’re worried about your little kiss with my godson, then you have nothing to fret, for I have seen in it every perspective possible.”

“Godson?” she echoed in a high falsetto, almost breaking her voice. “Well, that explains the favoritism.” She scoffed a second later.

A slowly arched brow and slight tilt of his head was her professors’ response, which before this year would have immediately triggered her knee-jerk response to apologize but Hermione Granger was not one to suffer fools and bullies this year in any regard. She sat and silently dared him to deny it.

“Indeed.” He sneered with mild amusement but she could tell he was sizing her up. That judgmental glance was his signature look. “Regardless, the duel, young lady.”

She inhaled and closed her eyes, bringing them right to the moment that Ron spat vehemently at Pansy and then whirled his wand in Draco’s face, calling for the duel. She had anticipated it perfectly, brandishing her wand and stepping right in front of Draco at precisely the right moment, accepting. The bluff was called, the challenge commenced. She underestimated the speed and clarity in which he’d fired his first spell, disarming her and following through with rapid blasts, near misses thanks to her quick footwork.

The moment her legs were locked together and she felt the earth give way she knew Ron was holding nothing back, that he meant to hurt her and would gladly do so-in front of as many witnesses as possible-and that thought gave her only one comfort: there was no more playing nice. She landed with a hard crunch, keening in pain before casting Nox to temporarily hide herself as she undid the leg lock. Knowing he would come close to inspect, possibly gloat, she gathered her patience and inner core of magic, focusing on goal: Up.

Imaging a fight move from a karate film, she lifts herself into the air and thrusts a leg outward, foot landing right on target to his chest and sent him back. She manages to lower herself with a sense of grace and charges at him, knowing full well she has the disadvantage in physical strength but too enraged to care.

It backfires unfortunately; Ron has grown up with five older brothers, all of which have spent their time tormenting him in one way or another. He’s learned to hold his own, even against his little sister. Hair is fair game, and Hermione has plenty of it as he grabs a thick handful and turns their bodies as they collide. 

A hot white flash of pain dances before her eyes as her head meets the ground; his fingers dig into her scalp and twist among the curls as if to literally rip out a chunk as a barbaric trophy. Flaying out like a pissed cat, Hermione’s hands are slapping, scratching, pummeling against his face and arms as she screams to fuel her enraged energy. The tip of his wand digs into her throat painfully-it eventually leaves a bruise which later is healed-and a single word renders her speechless for the next following days. 

But it’s what follows that Hermione fights for Snape not to see, and despite all her progress with Occlumency she is still a novice and cannot hold her own when he pushes hard enough. He knows there’s something that passed between them, unheard by the distant crowd, but from what they saw, it seemed oddly intimate. She tries darkening the scene into nothingness, but Snape is determined to uncover the truth. And it is ugly.

“Just a filthy Mudblood, is that what you like being called after all, Mione? Is that what he whispers in your ear as he touches you?” Ron sneers with a disconcerting husky voice as his wand hand runs along down her throat and into the dip between her breasts-

Hermione shuts the image down with a resounding crack, accidently casting Depulso and pushing Snape harshly against the wall as she backs up, wand flying into her hand, chest heaving with heavy breaths. Her whole body is quivering, watching as her professor gathers himself from the floor and rises to his full height.

“No. More.” She orders darkly, but shakily.

“I have seen enough.” He states. And he surely has.

Hermione bolts from the room without hesitation.  
…………………………….

If Daphne thought slipping into Hogwarts on the last day with the last train would somehow mitigate her chances of a confrontation, she was dead wrong. She found out the hard way as she snuck into the Slytherin common room and let down her guard knowing that Draco was still in the Great Hall. In a split second, her hair and her world was gripped tightly from behind and thrown for a loop as she met a cold stone wall and felt not one, but two wands at her throat.

Blinking back her shock, she was facing two very clearly pissed off housemates, one of them being her very own roommate.

“Listen here Blondie,” Theo growled, olive eyes fierce with a fire she’d never seen before. “You stay the fuck away from Draco, and Hermione. You don’t look at her, talk to her, or touch her in any way. And as for Draco, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, but I will just so it gets through that dense skull. You. Have. No. Chance. With. Him. So. Kindly. Fuck. Off.”

She swallowed the hard lump in her throat, eyes pleading towards Pansy for some sort of reassurance. She was sorely disappointed.

Pansy pressed her wand just a little harder. “I’ve known Draco my whole life, and even though he is like a brother to me I will gladly marry him rather than have him be settled with someone like you.” She twisted the wood, making the blonde grimace. “You betray him, you betray me. And I have no qualms about ripping out all that golden hair and making a feather duster with it.”

Daphne opened her mouth to protest, but was silenced by Theo’s vehement interruption. “You have no idea what damage you’ve done, what hardship you brought upon him, and for that, I will never forgive you.”

Hardship? Damage? Betrayal? Her mind raced with accusations she didn’t understand but she clearly believed their threats against her. It was them who were sorely mistaken, thinking they were protecting Draco from that Gryffindor Mudblood. They’d fallen under her spell too it would seem. She was certain that Pansy of all her friends would be able to see it.

“I don’t need your forgiveness Theodore Nott.” She sniffed with indignation. 

“Then watch your back Bitch.” He snarled. “I have no problem getting my hands dirty.”

“So this is how it is?” she asked Pansy, eyes watering and lip pouting.

Pansy narrowed her eyes and curled her painted lip in disgust. “That shit won’t work on me. And it doesn’t work on Draco either. Just stop your games and we’ll get on as we did before.”

Daphne’s eyes hardened in an instant, having her pity-me routine fail. But she smiled along sweetly as if discussing party dresses and finally selecting one. “No problem Pans, we’ll get on.”

“Good.” The raven haired girl replied, retracting her wand.

The three of them knew though, that it was anything but good. But that was Slytherin speak and they all knew how it was spoken.  
…………………………..

By lunch, Draco had finally given into his impatience and concern over Hermione’s absence and set off to see what was going on. He figured that both Pansy and Theo were off with Neville and Harry, he hadn’t seen either in a while but he’d been playing catch up with Blaise, hearing all about his stay in the mountains and his tentative relationship with his current stepfather who tried to bond over competitive games and stories of his own childhood.

Draco cringed just as Blaise said he had done at the very notion of it but he wanted to make his mother happy, so he went along.

“Merlin, the things we endure for our mothers.” He joked. Draco had to agree.

He in turn informed Blaise of his disastrous week but glossed over many of the finer details. While Blaise had no affiliation to Voldemort in any way, he and Draco’s friendship was not as deep seated as the one he shared with Theo. And the less people that knew about the truth of his home life, the better. To his credit, the Italian-Brit didn’t press for those finer details, but he certainly wasn’t happy with Daphne’s interference either. Draco reassured him that Theo had it in hand, which was confirmed when said Slytherin showed up with none other than Pansy.

“I thought you guys were off with…” he trailed off, looking around. Where were those pesky little Gryffindors anyways?

“Nah mate, they’re in their common room.” Theo answered. “With Hermione.”

Draco didn’t like the way that sounded. He figured she would’ve gone to the lab or sought him out after her session.

“Snape uncovered something and she hauled out of there like a Dementor was after her. She’s been holed up in the lion tower since.”

“What? Happened?” he demanded.

Theo held his hands up. “Sorry mate, Harry couldn’t get her to say and that’s all I know from his note. You don’t think this has something to do with the duel, do you?”

“Who’s to say what he makes her go through.” Pansy shrugged. “It can’t be pleasant but that’s the point, right? To lock that shit up? But she usually pulls her little disappearing act when they’re through so why would today be any different?”

“Because that wasn’t just a duel.” Draco growled.

“I am clearly missing some vital information but for the sake of time, just what the fuck are we talking about?” Blaise interjected. And so the trio pulled him aside in a secluded alcove and gave him a crash course into the dealings with their favorite Gryffindor and got him up to speed. Blaise knew that Draco had finally come out with his feelings for her and they were officially but secretly together but hearing the nature of the duel between her and one of her own housemates had surely caught him unawares.

“And the Occlumency is to help reign in her wandless abilities? Why?”

Theo jumped on Blaise like he’d insulted his ancestors. “Do you NOT remember the dodgeball game? She was an absolute BEAST and nearly killed the Weasel then! She is barely in control of it, despite how badass she looks and that type of magic is tied to our emotions. She has to get them under lock and key or she will become a danger to everyone around her and herself.”

Blaise held his hands up in surrender. “Oi mate, no need to jump down my throat and rip my arse from the inside out.” The protective fury for Draco that he’d just unleashed onto Daphne Greengrass came out full force like a loyal canine protecting its master. Pansy placed a hand on his arm to signify the action was not necessary.

“Sorry.” He said a moment later when his blood cooled. “Still reeling from putting a certain witch in her place.” He tossed a wink to Draco.

“We made it quite succinct as to what she is permitted and not when it comes to you and Granger.” Pansy filled in. 

“Let’s hope it’s enough.” Draco sighed.  
……………………

DINNER IN THE GREAT HALL:

“Attention everybody.” Dumbledore announced, breaking the cacophony of a couple hundred students eating, laughing, and gossiping over their evening meal. The silence that followed seemed almost as deafening as the dull roar that preceded it. “Knowing that all our students have returned safe and sound after the holiday is always first and foremost our pride and priority.” He looked around the room, catching everyone’s eye. “For our returning students as well as our esteemed guests.” 

Sitting with their backs to the remaining three tables, Hermione was aligned with Ginny to her right, followed by Harry, Fred, Ron-released from the detention cell-George and Cormac McLaggen. Across from her sat Neville, Dean, Seamus, Parvati, Lavender and Angelina. Ron was sporting a beautiful purple swollen left eye and was under orders to not engage with Hermione in any way if he wanted a decent meal. And so her friends acted as a shield, putting as many bodies between them as possible and keeping one brother on either side of him.

She couldn’t bring herself to face Draco or any of the Slytherins she was on good terms with after her session with Snape and the enormity of certain actions by Ron. She knew their eyes were on her back, and that he would be worried, but she hadn’t yet come to grips with it, and now Ron was sitting a few bodies away. The notion of having to walk up to the same common room with him was almost too nauseating for her to eat.

At Dumbledore’s abrupt announcement, everyone put their silverware and cups down, turned their bodies and gave him their undivided attention.

“…in light of certain events a course of action had been determined to deal with said matters in our most diplomatic way: the Sorting Hat.”

Upon mention, Professor McGonagall pulled up the dingy brown and withered sentient headpiece that determined the destinies of the students and held it by the pointed tip. A unanimous gasp echoed through the hall. Students only ever saw this hat at the beginning of every school year and no other time. Now, three fourths into the year, someone was going to be resorted? This was historical.

Hermione scanned the professor’s table. Hagrid just bitterly shook his head, already anticipating the worst. McGonagall was fighting the grimace across her face while Dumbledore’s face was solemn and Snape seemed tense with his arms crossed. He was waiting for chaos.

“Ronald Bilius Weasley, please step forward to be Resorted.” Minerva McGonagall called in her most authoritative voice. The collective gasps of her tablemates hurt as it came to an utter shock to them, and it took everything she had to not say a thing to even Harry about it. Hagrid’s warning to her and Draco had her prepared, but still, the novelty of this rare occasion sent goosebumps along her arms.

With a calm wave of his hand, Dumbledore split the professors’ table in half so McGonagall could pass without walking the great length around. Alternatively, both the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables also split in the anticipation of him being move to another House. Students held their benches and gripped the table as they were scooted over just a few feet, not a single drop of pumpkin juice spilt. It remained so when Ron got to his feet and met her halfway, standing between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. Without ceremony she placed the hat upon his carrot colored hair and the room fell into a dead calm.

“Oh what have we here?” the gravelly voice of the relic intoned. It hummed as if in thought, probing the mind it sat upon with Legilimens. How an innate object possessed such an ability, Hermione had no idea. She never thought it possible, but it just went to show that every day in the wizarding world was an opportunity to learn something new.

“It’s not his loyalty that has waned, if anything it has grown.” The Hat spoke. 

Hermione was not surprised.

“Although angrier, this student is still a Gryffindor through and through.”

The elderly witch breathed in a sigh. While relieved, it also did not quell her nerves. Which meant another course of action was to be taken. She plucked the hat off his head and motioned for him to retake his seat. As he turned around, their eyes met for the first time since the duel, since he was inches from her face, whispering scathing insults and touching her-

Hermione shivered but continued to meet his eye until he took his seat.

“Very well then, so it would seem-”

Hermione jumped to her feet. “Sort me.” She exclaimed suddenly. Her chest never felt so heavy before but she had to take the chance.

“I beg your pardon?” the Head of Gryffindor gaped, clearly startled.

“Accio Sorting Hat.” Hermione called, hand out and receptive as the old wizard’s headwear suddenly flew from the woman’s grasp and into her awaiting hand. She drowned out the voices, the gasps and shouts and explicatives thrown around as she placed it on her own head. “Sort me.” She ordered the hat.

Time slowed to a snail’s pace as the Sorting Hat’s rough voice spoke in a serious tone. “Oh my….there’s been quite a change in you my dear…”

‘Please,’ she thought to herself, ‘Tell me where I belong. Where is my place now?’

The Hat had spent several long minutes mulling her over on their first encounter, for she was a prime candidate for any of the given houses respectfully. She was ambitious, hard-working, cunning and brave. She thirsted for knowledge and was able to twist words and bend wills for means that met the greater good-even if they were against the rules. In any house, she would excel. She knew this. But she also knew she would never feel at peace in Gryffindor again. Not anymore.

After an eternity, the Hat spoke:

“Slytherin!”  
…………………………


	33. Chimera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione, once the Gryffindor Princess, is now Hogwarts’ very own Chimera.

In the blink of an eye, the entire world as she knew it changed. 

Hermione Jean Granger was Gryffindor no more, but Slytherin. And in front of over a hundred witnesses, the Hat proclaimed her to be one of the silver-tongued serpents rather than the golden lions known for their loyalty. 

Professor McGonagall placed a hand to her chest as she wavered on shaken knees, convinced she was nearing a heart attack from the shock. Dumbledore stood with inquisitive eyes before sharing a look with Snape, who appeared as amused as he would allow himself, his suspicions confirmed with a slight nod.

Hermione removed the Hat from her head, chest barely moving as she breathed shallowly. With one last glance to her mentor and idol, she turned and crossed the path laid open by Dumbledore’s table splitting spell. She felt every set of eyes in the room on her, watching her like an anomaly-and wasn’t she?-as every step felt like a betrayal and freedom. She gripped the pointed tip of the Hat just to give her hands something to hold onto, focusing on a point on the wall behind the Slytherin table-now her table. She couldn’t meet anyone’s face yet.

Not even Draco’s.

The only sound to be heard was the gentle clips of her soles upon the stone tiled floor.

That is, until she reached the inner bench of the Slytherin table.

A voice rang out. “TRAITOR!”

It broke the spell of silence, unleashing everyone’s right to verbal exclamations in an overflowing damn.

“Ron, don’t!”

“Stop!” 

“Look out!”

Hermione spun around, dropping the Hat and reacting on instinct, her mind slowing time enough for her to gage several scenarios at once:

She could simply dodge it, but someone behind her would get hit.

She could cast a spell, but giving the unpredictable movements of several dozen students, she risked hitting one of them instead.

She could stand there and let it hit her, only furthering her case that she never instigated any of the fights between them. 

She could try to catch it, but it might break in her hand.

He hurled it with great force, no doubt it would shatter in her hand, or against anyone it struck, and then there would be a great retaliation which to lead to an all-out food and spell fight right there in the Great Hall with dozens of innocent children getting injured.

So she did the one thing she always did: protected others rather than herself.

“Protego Totalum!” she shouted with all the voice she could muster, throwing her arms wide to engulf the entire Slytherin table behind her and extending several feet in either direction as the teacup collided with her forehead, shattering just as she knew it would. The Slytherins jumped to their feet, wands and plates of food up in arms to react, but the shield prevented them from doing such.

The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws dodged but several were doused in tea from the initial throw, and scrambled to retaliate. No sooner than the single plate crashed to the ground and a fork dinged off Harry’s glasses had Dumbledore bellowed with a magnified voice, shaking the very walls of the Great Hall, scaring every child into obedience.

“Snape,” he ordered. “Remove your students.”

Severus was already on his feet and motioning to his prefects to corral the younger ones. “Theodore, escort Miss Granger to the Headmaster’s office, then to the dungeons when you’re dismissed.” He ordered, purposefully placing a hand on Draco’s shoulder to still him.

“Yes sir.” Theo jumped to his feet.

Pomona Sprout suddenly appeared before Hermione, whether she leapt over, crawled under the table or simply apparated right in front of her she couldn’t say, her right eye was closed as she felt the sting of blood drip down. The gentle voice of the Herbology professor soothed her as she opened the hip satchel always on her side and pulled out a vial. Hermione felt little dabs against her forehead and barely flinched.

“You should lower the shield now dearie.” The Head of Hufflepuff softly stated, seeing as Theodore Nott simply couldn’t access his way around the table.

The Durmstang students had also been escorted from the Slytherin table, their Headmaster calling it a night and leading them back to their ship for the evening. Hermione never even acknowledged the concerned protesting from Viktor Krum.

“Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, dismissed.” Dumbledore announced once Pamona finished her medical administrations. “Ten points from each for engaging in retaliation.” He followed through once the students got to their feet. They groaned and huffed but made quick work of exiting with no further complaints.

Hagrid had a firm hold on Ron’s collar, practically strangling him by forcing him up on his toes. Minerva looked ready to faint, throw up or scream. Perhaps all three at once. The always unflappable Scottish professor just had her world tilted askew, losing her best and brightest witch to her rival house and dealing with an ever-growing problem from a once promising student.

Dumbledore motioned for the Gryffindor prefects to lead the rest of them away after deducting thirty points for the unprovoked attack. No one had the heart to even softly scoff; it was as plain as day Ron was in the wrong. “Miss Granger, my office if you will.” The Headmaster replied in his usual kind voice as he noticed her still standing in place.

“Don’t expel him.” She blurted out before stopping herself. Damn chivalrous habits. They were going to be the death of her one of these days.

“Pardon?” several voices exclaimed in unison. She didn’t blame them.

“It was just a stupid teacup.” She waved her hand dismissively. It lay in shattered pieces at her feet, along with the frumpy brown Hat. She bent down and picked it up, dusting it in an act of polite aloofness. “Tell me he’s not the first student to ever throw one.”

“And you were injured.” McGonagall reminded her in thick voice.

Hermione shrugged. “I’ve had period cramps worse than that.”

Theo nearly died trying to reign in his laughter, snickering like a bloody fool by her back, shriveling away from the professors’ unamused glare.

“Whart’er I do wit him in tha meantime?”

Ronald’s face was as red as his hair, glaring daggers at Hermione. He didn’t want her damn charity just so she could lord it over his head. Then again, he didn’t want to be expelled either. “Sorry.” He sneered in a very Draco Malfoy way that she felt repulsed he would even imitate.

All eyes switched onto the ginger.

“Didn’t think it’d actually hit you.” He huffed as if the excuse was enough.

“To your quarters young man.” Minerva McGonagall ordered. “You will be dealt with later.”

Hagrid bowed his head with respect to his former professor and sent Hermione a comforting smile before spinning on his heel and dragging Ron out of the room. With bile rising in her throat, Hermione suddenly felt the weight of the situation closing in on her. She tried forming words to her former Head of House but they felt like ash on her tongue.

“We’ll have a House Elf pack your belongings and take them to the S-Slytherin dorms.” The elderly woman stated, not meeting the eye of her favored student before she also took her leave.

That left Hermione and Theo with Dumbledore, seeing as the massive room somehow cleared rather quietly. For the first time since stepping foot into the magnificent hall, Hermione felt small. She crossed the distance between the two middle tables, handing the headmaster back the famed hat of Godric Gryffindor.

“You….You knew. Didn’t you?” she asked, seeing how the tables were split directly from where she once sat.

He waved his hand and all three tables fused back into their original lengths. He turned on his heel and began to lead them from the Great Hall, through the professors’ stairwell, and up to his personal office. “Let’s just say, the possibility crossed my mind. I like to be prepared.”

Theo harrumphed into his fist, pretending to cough.

“Miss Granger, it is up to you if Mister Nott is privy to our conversation.” The elderly wizard stated once they reached his door.

“Oh uh…” she stammered, unaware of what she was in for, but thankful to have the option. She turned to Theo, who offered her a supporting smile. Turning back to Dumbledore she nodded. She felt she needed every ally possible now.

Welcoming them in to be seated before his desk, the grand wizard hung up the Hat on its stand and took his own chair. 

Theo leaned over to her. “I must say, not even Trelawney could’ve seen this coming.” He joked, easing the tension. Considering how little stock Hermione put into the so-called Seer, she snickered as intended.

“You’ll understand of course, that you’ll now be in the bottommost location of the castle. I’m afraid no windows for sunlight will be available.” Dumbledore stated somewhat sadly.

“It’s alright.” Hermione politely responded. Windows were the least of her worries now. If she craved the sun so badly she knew where to find it.

“Your new Head of House is of course, Professor Severus Snape. Seeing as he’s chosen Theo here to escort you to the Slytherin common room, I’d like for you to oversee her acclimation to her new surroundings.” He addressed her companion. 

Theo nodded. “Tours and well-being, my specialty.” He mocked saluted.

“You’ll have a slight schedule change but otherwise all your classes will remain the same. Sitting with other tablemates is allowed but only reinforced for announcements and ceremonies. Though I’m sure it’ll be quite the adjustment for your friends, both old and new.”

“I’ll have you know that Harry is very open-minded about seating. I sat with all this week.” Theo pointed out, as if the old Headmaster hadn’t seen it for himself.

“This does, sadly restrict your entry back into the Gryffindor Tower-”

“It’s not like I felt very welcome there anyway.” She softly interrupted.

“And you are not permitted to reveal the Slytherin password to any student out of your new House.”

“Yes, Heaven forbid someone actually gets to see behind the curtain.” She scoffed, offhandedly. At the widened olive eyes of her new friend, she slouched and sighed. “Sorry Headmaster, I just don’t get the point of all the secrecy.”

“…any and all points you’ve earned for your former house remain as theirs, you will starting anew but I have no doubt you’ll pile those up pretty fast.”

“Considering you just docked fifty points in total from the other three houses, I’d say Slytherin hardly needs my help keeping ahead.”

Theo cleared his throat and reached for the candy dish on Dumbledore desk. 

The elderly man inhaled a slow breath and tented his fingers. “You will be facing plenty of backlash from this, understandably. A Resorting hasn’t happened in over fifty years. I do hope you are prepared for speculation on all sides, testing your integrity, loyalty, capability. Then there is of course, the blood status issue.”

Her head popped up.

“You are no stranger to the purist mindset and slurs used for someone such as yourself. I know you are better than what you will be labeled as, and you should do well to remember this. Hermione Granger, you are the Brightest Witch of Your Age, and if the Sorting Hat has deemed you as Slytherin material, then it is for a reason. You have now become Slytherin’s first Muggleborn student.”

A lump settled in her throat.

She didn’t want to be the posterchild for being a token minority into an environment she was majorly despised in. Why had the Hat decided Slytherin? Surely she was more Ravenclaw material. Then again, a lot of ravens were pretentious to a narcissistic degree and insulted others based on their grades more than the Slytherins did. Their particular form of bullying revolved on marks and achievements more than blood status. Was that any better?

But hadn’t she come to Hogwarts with lofty ambitions and grand goals? Didn’t she promise herself with her first step into this magnificent castle that she was going to make something of herself? Make her name known and be in the history books to come? She’d at least be a footnote now, Hogwarts’ Chimera of 1995, from Gryffindor to Slytherin during the year of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, right alongside Harry Potter for being the anomaly added as a fourth contestant.

Harry.

She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, steeling her urge to cry. She could only imagine what he was feeling, thinking, and possibly shouting at Ron this very minute, along with Ginny, the twins, Angelina and Luna-though she was in Ravenclaw. What were they all thinking of her right now?

How would they look at her tomorrow morning?

“…and you’ll be issued your own set of Slytherin robes and uniform.” He concluded. She numbly nodded, haven’t hearing a damn thing for who knows how long. It didn’t matter. She was still here, still a student at this wonderful school, so what if not in the same house? It was just dorm rooms and team colors anyway. Maybe they’ll stop calling me Lioness and find some stupid serpent equivalent. Oh wait, no, I already have a new nickname.

I’m the Chimera.


	34. Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now it’s time to adjust to life as a Slytherin. A new life, drenched in darkness. Hermione feels like Persephone, dragged into the Underworld by her own making.

Once they exited the Headmaster’s office and began descending the twisted stairwell the gravity of the situation hit her like a ton of bricks. Just as her breath hitched and eyes started to burn she felt Theo wrap an arm around her waist and pull her to his chest, the other hand rubbing her back.

“Do it.” He said. “Now. Because you won’t be able to show this kind of vulnerability down there.” He softly ordered.

Her shoulders started to rattle, still trying to keep it in.

“Hermione, just cry. I won’t tell.”

And then the damn broke.

Everything crashed around her. Her school reputation, her friendships, her once unwavering house loyalty and belief in unity….it fell to the floor in a resounding thud and shattered. What had she just done?  
………………………….

Once corralled into the Common Room, the Slytherins felt free to finally voice their opinions. And there were plenty. Lines in loyalty were suddenly drawn as there was a clear separation among the student body on whether Hermione Granger was deserving to be among them.

The sixth and seventh years didn’t care much for getting involved in the politics of the matter, as they were closer to graduation and thus would have the fewest interaction with a younger classmate. The first through third years were told that they’d have to look at Hermione Granger as one of their upperclassmen, to be respected and obeyed as any other before they were ushered off to their dorms for the evening. Leaving the fourth and fifth years to contest the issue.

“I’ll be damned if I have to put up with a filthy Mudblood in my own damn House!”

“Who cares if she’s muggleborn? She’s gonna win us the house Cup with her grades!”

“If I have to deal with that little swot one minute longer out of class than I have to I’ll scream!”

“Did you fucking see Weasley’s face? Heard she decked him, muggle style! Beautiful!”

“We’ll have to burn every piece of furniture she sits on now.”

“Salazar would be rolling in his grave over this.”

“Can you believe she Accioed the damn Sorting Hat right out of McGonagall’s hands?”

“That’s one witch I wouldn’t want to piss off.”

“Did you see her throw up that Protego Totalum? Still a little Gryffindor in her…”

“Surely this is a mistake. We can’t have a resorting so close to the end of the year.”

“What in world even happened with her? Seriously? She’s been inching herself away from them for a bit now.”

Snape stood in the entranceway, arms crossed as he listened to the overlapping voices. He expected as much. Although who was sticking up for Granger-besides Draco-was the surprising factor. He knew of Parkinson and Nott, but not Zabini and the half-bloods Tracy Davis and Millicent Bulstrode. Daphne Greengrass was vehemently opposed, but her younger sister seemed unsure before having been sent off. Neither Goyle or Crabbe had much to say but they clearly were not pleased.

“If you would cease your bickering…” he drawled, gathering their attention. “Need I remind you that any student of your House is to be treated as family? You are all Slytherins, you look out for one another and I’ll not have rows between any of my own students like lowly Gryffindors. The Hat sees things about yourselves you do not even realize, and if one thing is to be made clear, it is that Miss Granger is not your typical witch-Muggleborn or not.”

He held up his hand to silence any protests.

“There will be no insulting her blood status. She is a member of our team and fully capable of bringing us the House Cup, as so succinctly pointed out. Being called Mudblood every five minutes will not make her very inclined to make that a reality. And needless to say, she is fully capable of handling herself in a duel; mute and blinded she still overpowered Ronald Weasley. Take that into account.”

“Professor, you’re talking like she’s some asset to us.” Daphne pouted.

“I saw that duel firsthand, she held nothing back. And that was against a so-called friend.” Pansy piped up. “Just think of what she’d do to any of us. And she didn’t have to shield us either. Or have you forgotten that already?”

Daphne huffed and crossed her arms.

“She doesn’t belong here.” Gregory Goyle protested. Draco shot him a withering glare.

“Yeah? And what about Draco and her?” Marcus Flint prompted.

Draco snapped his head in the direction of the pompous prat. “It’s none of your damn business. But it works in our favor, doesn’t it? More points on the board? Just mind your own and let me do what I’m doing.”

“Does your father know?” he snidely remarked. “Sure he will by dinner tomorrow.”

Hell, the whole Wizarding world was going to hear about it by dinner tomorrow. There wasn’t going to be a single student who wouldn’t be writing home to tell them what they just witnessed. It was one for the history books. It’d be on the front page of every newspaper-reputable or not.

“You will do well to mind your own on that matter.” Snape coldly regarded the student. “All of you. Whatever Lord Malfoy has in store for Draco is no one’s business but his own.”

Even as their head of house, Snape was one for harsh punishments to those who crossed him, and this his students knew. He’d make the remaining months of school a living hell for them if they dipped a toe out of line. 

A house elf appeared with a small apparation crack, bringing the conversation to a halt. “Piper has Missus Granger’s belongings Sir.” She announced.

Ah yes, a room…

None were prepared for that.

“Just set her things over there for now.” He said, pointing to a high back chair by the fireplace.

Piper did as she was ordered, bowed and disapparated from the room just as easily as she arrived. A cage containing Crookshanks sat atop of her trunk with the feline growling deep in his throat.

“Oh fucking lovely.” Someone remarked with rolled eyes. “I hate cats.”

“Get used to it.” Snape barked. He turned to Daphne and Pansy. “We can make arrangements-”

“Oh bloody hell no.” Daphne cried, cutting him off and crossing her arms. “I will owl my parents right this minute if I have to share a room with a fucking Mudblood swot and-”  
“Shut. Up.” Snape snapped, effectively widening her eyes and closing her mouth. “Owl them. Stand atop the Astronomy Tower and scream it to the night sky. Piss and moan until the full moon rises. I care not for your attitude and am in no way intimidated by the Greengrass name. And you will do well to not interrupt me again young lady.”

On the verge of tears and huffing, Daphne gave the barest of nods.

“Professor, we’ll look for a space for her.” Pansy volunteered. “I’d rather not have blood spilled in my bedroom over this.”

“Right then. All of you, to your dorms then. Class begins tomorrow.” He ordered with a whirl of his cloak and turn of his heel, heading for the entrance. He’d barely exited when his newest ward and her escort arrived.

“The bloodbath over already?” Theo asked in his usual charming sarcastic tone.

“For now.” He replied, looking over Hermione. She still had dried blood crusting on her forehead from the teacup. Had the doddering old fool not even bothered with letting her get properly cleaned up before coming here? “Theo, you and Miss Parkinson should show her around. You’ll need the loo.” He said, pointing to his own forehead.

Mirroring his action, Hermione touched the tender spot healed with dabs of Dittany. Her fingers came away with red flakes. Oh.  
……………………………….

A good handful of minutes passed as Hermione shed her tears. She was never more thankful for Theodore Nott than in that moment. He knew what she needed even she hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself. His words of encouragement, following after the praise Dumbledore had given her only lifted her spirit so much. 

“I could tell you zoned him out there towards the end. I think he did too. You didn’t so much as lift your head when he said you preformed an amazing Protego Totalum and how that act should show your loyalty to your new housemates.”

“He did?” she asked, wiping her eye and smearing it into the crumbling flakes of blood near the corner of her eye. In the darkness of the corridor, Theo hadn’t noticed. He led the way down the stairs, the atmosphere becoming darker and gloomier by the second. She felt the urge to pull out her wand and cast Lumos, but trusted Theo’s leadership. He’d been making this route nearly every day for practically four years.

“You’ll get used to the dark.” He stated, in a voice that wasn’t entirely convincing.

Dark. That was what everything felt like right now. In her heart, in her head. Couldn’t this resorting thing wait until morning? Let her have one final night of sleep and wake to sunlight in her tower? She hadn’t even been given the chance to say goodbye to her friends, few as they were. As if she’d been dragged to the Underworld, except not by Hades’ hand, but her own.

No going back now.

Theo held open the entrance tapestry like a curtain. Upon mention of the password, the painting revealed its true nature to be a tapestry. Clever. If she thought her eyes had adjusted to the dark while descending the stairs then she clearly had never expected an even darker-if that was at all possible-chamber which was the Slytherin common room.  
How the students of Slytherin didn’t develop light sensitivity and poor eyesight was beyond her. A sickly green pallor illuminated the room expect for the orange glow of the fire crackling where she saw her trunk and caged kneazle. All the furniture was ornate and dark; the colors silver and deep green. The common room had lots of low backed black and dark green button-tufted, leather sofas; skulls; and dark wood cupboards, decorated with tapestries featuring the adventures of famous Medieval Slytherins. It was quite the grand atmosphere, but also cold.

The stark contrast to the bright and golden gleaming tower of pride and favoritism, she could see why some Slytherins would just simply be in a perpetual bad mood. No warmth, no light, and cast under the depths of the Black Lake like the unwanted. There was no telling day from night down here, no opening a window to listen to birdsong or feel a breeze.

She expected a larger crowd, but was thankful it was merely the fourth and fifth years that lingered in the common room upon her entrance. It crossed her mind more than once that she’d walk into either a heated debate or ambush, but was quite surprised that neither was the case. Nor what Theatric Theodore did next.

“May I present, her Royal Highness of the Gryffindors, the Golden Lioness, and all around badass Muggleborn Witch, her Lady Grace, Hermione Granger!”

In the silence that would’ve made a pin drop seem like a Bombarda, she felt herself blanch at the ridiculous titles and superfluous posturing by the joker extraordinaire. She wanted to suddenly become invisible and shrink simultaneously and hex Theo into next week.

But the spell of awkwardness was broken by none other than Blaise, raising an invisible goblet as if to cheer and said “You forgot Hurricane Hermione, Queen of Storms.”

“And Dodgeball Champion.” Pansy added, looking to Draco to continue the chain.

He smirked at her. “And Weasel Beater.”

“And Dragon Biter!” Tracey chimed in which earned hearty laughs and flushed face of not only Draco but Hermione as well.

Speechless, breathless, and overwhelmed, Hermione stood there as those few Slytherins made her welcome to their dorm, welcomed her as one of their own. Theo took her by the hand and led her further in as if they were on a ballroom floor, bringing her straight to Draco.

“May I present our very own Slytherin Prince.” He continued as if he were introducing Hermione and Draco like dignified royals. He placed Hermione’s hand in Draco’s extended one as if to formally give a bride over to her groom. It was all quite surreal and silly, but inwardly the most welcome she’d ever felt in any new environment, even more so than her first steps into the Great Hall and joining the Gryffindor table.

Nervously tucking some hair behind her ear revealed the smear of blood still clinging onto her forehead. Draco’s eyes hardened and suddenly he was snapping his fingers, summoning a house elf to fetch a damp cloth. Before she could protest or chastise him for his brashness, the elf reappeared with the ordered cloth that was now being gently dabbed against her wound.

“Think you could’ve included yourself in with that shield Granger?” he said with a half smirk, half concerned voice. After all, there were several onlookers.

“Honestly, I thought of that.” She answered. “But I also knew that taking the hit would only get him further in trouble.”

“What’d I tell ya?” Theo shouted with absolute unrestrained glee. “Fucking Slytherin material since Day One!”

“You diabolical witch.” Draco smiled as he wiped the last of the dried blood away.

Hermione couldn’t help but smile with pride at the praise. Maybe coming down here wouldn’t be so bad after all. Daphne’s disgusted huff and petulant stomp from the common room was a clear indicator that it wouldn’t be smooth sailing, but this was far more than she expected to receive for her initial acceptance.

“Alright guys, show’s over.” Blaise drawled, waving his fingers in dismissal to the lingering fifth years that still expected some sort of altercation or endearing display from Draco Malfoy. “Let the girl get her bearings.”

“Speaking of which…” she softly interjected. “Where am I sleeping?”

“Ah, about that….” Pansy trailed off. She stepped right up to Hermione, leaning in to speak in low tones. “We don’t have a place set yet, and Daph would raise utter Hell if you were placed with us. Tonight, you can have a sofa here in the common room and I’ll show you the loo so you can get prepared.”

“That’s bollocks!” Draco said in her defense. “It’s undignified to have her sleep out here in the open.”

“I’ve slept plenty of nights in the Gryffindor common room-”

He whirled on her. “You are not in the golden Gryffindor tower anymore Princess.” He stated darkly. “I’m not sure if you noticed, but there are more people here than are letting on that are not happy with your sudden…arrival.” She opened her mouth to protest but he continued. “Leaving you out here tonight would be the equivalent to stringing you up by the Quidditch goal post. Easy pickings.”

“Well you certainly can’t tuck her away in your room either.” Pansy teased, watching both their faces flush at that unexpected option.

“Fine then.” He stiffened. “I’ll stay out here too.”

“What?” Hermione all but lost her voice with the ghostly whisper that passed her lips.

Pansy clapped her hands together. “Excellent.” She waltzed over to Hermione’s trunk and plucked Crookshanks’ cage from the top and released him in an orange burst of fur.

“Hope you have some thick jammies, it tends to be a little chilly at night.”

“At night?” Hermione looked around. The windows were merely glass views into the depths of the Black Lake with shadowy shapes swimming by. “How can you even tell down here?”

Draco shrugged. “It’s subtle, but noticeable.”

“Loo’s this way.” Pansy pointed, clearly putting an end to the idle chatter. “Come on Princess.”

Hermione felt Draco’s hand move to her back and gently nudge her towards his raven haired ex-girlfriend just as easily if she were McGonagall herself. Knowing that protests would fall on stubbornly deaf ears, she went along with the offered hospitality and flipped open her trunk, finding everything neatly folded with military precision and care. Her stack of school books and satchel were aligned on top of the coffee table, ready for her in the morning. She felt a few seconds of white hot panic rushed through before her fingers brushed against the jeweled cover of the Floriography book safely nestled with the folds of her clothing. No need to tear through her belongings in a mad search.

With a pair of flannel button up long sleeves and matching bottoms in hand, she followed Pansy off to the girls’ lavatory-which she was in need of using anyways so she welcomed the guidance. After conducting her business she changed in the stall as she listened to Pansy’s explanation of the schedule should she need a shower in the morning. She appreciated knowing the pecking order; nothing would be a bigger faux paus than waltzing into the bath when it was clearly designated for another age group and probably getting hexed as a result. She swore to never let herself be without her wand at any given point while being down here.

Stepped up to the sink with her toothbrush and tube of toothpaste in hand, she noticed Pansy’s ill attempt at subtlety with her dark brown eyes fixated on the strange devices in her hands. Hermione internally giggled as she undid the cap, squeezed a glob onto her brush, rescrewed the cap and then started brushing her teeth-all to the pureblood witchs’ fascination. 

After gargling and spitting into the sink and rinsing her mouth she turned to the raven haired witch. “And that’s how Muggles do it.”

The abject disgust and fascination couldn’t be masked by indifference. Hermione felt a minor thrill of victory at having boggled a snooty pureblood who often used to tease her about her teeth. When she followed her back into the common room she was surprised to find it empty, save for one head of pale blond hair rising above the back of the sofa.  
“Behave you two.” Pansy delightfully snickered into her ear as she took the designated hallway for the girls’ dorm. Draco turned around; his face scrunched up as he tried deciphering what the hell it was that she was wearing.

“That is hideous.” He proclaimed as she came around the edge of the sofa, finding Crookshanks curled in his lap, an orange purring poofball with a flicking tail against silky black pajamas.

“It’s called flannel, and it’ll keep me warm. Here, feel it.” She offered, watching him recoil as if she hexed him. “What?”

He cleared his throat. “I’m not going to…ahem…touch you…like that.” His ears burned pink even in the off-putting green lighting.

She gasped, bringing her hands over her mouth. “I didn’t mean it like that!” She bounced on her sock clad feet and shook her head. “Goodness no, Draco I meant my sleeve…not…Me…”

Nervously, she held out her arm as if she were offering it to be sniffed by a wary animal. Just as tentatively, he reached out and let his fingers brush across the surprisingly soft and thick sleeve that draped over her skinny wrist. “It’s still hideous though.” He commented when he retracted his hand.

She rolled her eyes. “Considering that I spend my sleeping hours in a dark room it really doesn’t matter what they look like. I don’t have to look like a bloody fashionista every moment of my life.” She poked his bicep. “Silk. Of course. No wonder you get cold so easily.”

His head snapped in her direction. “How di-”

“All you Slytherins do it.” She answered without missing a beat. “Warming charms. Scarves. Robes wrapped tightly against your bodies. And how you guzzle hot coffee in the morning.”

He flushed at the very notion that Hermione Granger had taken enough interest in him to notice little things like that. He patted the seat next to himself.

“Uh, I thought I’d just take that plush chair and ottoman.” She stammered, pointing the furniture nearest to the fireplace.

He shook his head. A second later his hand shot up and grabbed hers; causing Crookshanks to jump off his lap with an irritated yowl and her to stiffen suddenly.

“The closer you are to me, the better I can protect you. After all, Snape made it resoundingly clear that I was indebted to you.” He flashed her a playful flirty smile but his tone was all business.

“I didn’t think you’d be cashing in that debt so soon.” She murmured as he gently pulled her around the arm of the sofa to join him. He had already procured a thick blanket and pillow for their use. Nervous as hell, she took the separate cushion and hugged the arm of the sofa so hard she was certain to imprint the ornate armrest into her hip.

“I don’t bite.” He stated a moment later when it was painfully obvious she was keeping a distance from him.

She let out a little shrill laugh. “I seem to recall two,” she held up two fingers, “occasions in which I can refute that since both times left marks.”

His smile was Slytherin worthy. “I seem to recall you also biting back.”

She retracted her hand only to tuck it in as she crossed her arms. “I was merely demonstrating that I can dish what I take.”

He scooted over, closing the distance between them, feeling her heat radiate through his silk pajamas and bringing him instant comfort. “Something tells me that you like to dish it just as much as I liked taking it.”

She fiddled with the oversized sleeves of her sleepwear. “I had a tendency to bite when I was younger.” She confessed. “My parents are both dentists-teeth healers-and I grew up with diagrams and models of teeth and mouths and even a medical skeleton to learn from. I guess it helped fuel my desire to read all those Anne Rice novels too…” she shrugged. “Leaving marks…it’s a very primal feeling…very personal…”

Draco felt his cheeks heat up with every word that passed her lips. Even in his most outrageous fantasies of having her near him, he’d never envisioned a scenario like this. Of her, as a Slytherin, sitting with him in the dark, by firelight, telling him her secrets. It was somehow even wilder than a fleeting snogfest-for those had no substance, it was purely hormonal-but this right now, was real.

“Tell me more.” He said, bringing the comforter up over his lap and across hers. “I’m certain you’re not ready to sleep yet. So tell me about this teeth healing profession. It’s all they do? Just focus on the mouth? What about the rest of the body?”

Sensing the tension ease, she relaxed her shoulders and took the offered blanket, wrapping it firmly around herself. “The Muggles have many fields within the career of healing. The term Doctor is broad and just as vague as the word Artist these days. Doctors can focus solely on one aspect of health or be a general healer and cover a little bit of everything. Just like Artist now covers careers like singing, being a musician, a dancer, painter, or fashion designer. Dentists focus on teeth. Pediatricians treat children. Cardiologists treat heart conditions. Surgeons operate on bodies with terrible wounds. Neurologists study the brain and therapists are people you seek when you need to speak about things troubling you, like survivors of war or abused spouses seeking to re-validate themselves after letting someone control them for so long.”

He shivered at that last one. 

“Therapists?” he asked, trying to sound as casual to the foreign word as possible.

She nestled against the pillow he brought, easing into a cat-like ball and trying to make her whole body fit on a single cushion until he reached under the blanket and pulled her calves straight so they draped across him. When she blinked at him in question he challenged her with a look of his own that dared her to argue she wasn’t more comfortable like that.

“As you were saying?” he prompted for her to continue.

“Oh…yeah…uh Therapy…” she sheepishly gathered her thoughts. “I guess you could compare them to Mind-Healers at St. Mungo’s. Some people have no idea how psychological damage can form from certain events or environments, and some just don’t care, so the cycle of abuse continues in some families. Husbands beat wives, wives control their husbands, kids get caught in the middle…it can have devastating results on young minds. And we have this term called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder that we abbreviate to PTSD, and that covers those dealing with the aftermath of their shock, like surviving a natural disaster or war and now they have triggers from everyday things as little as a color, scent or sound and they’re suddenly sent back into their moment of pain. It’s terrible how easily the mind can be broken.”

Draco rubbed his hand along her knee, over the blanket, soaking in all this information. It made him wonder if he needed to see one these “therapists” for the things Lucius had put him through. It wasn’t just the cane beating and the Crucio; it was years of trying to force him into the ideal Malfoy Lucius expected him to be. Which was quite the opposite of how his mother was trying to raise him to be. It was a heavy clash of the gentle and the abrasive, the generous and the selfish, the open-hearted and the close-minded.

But he could never let her know that.

He knew that the moment she uncovered the truth about his home life that she’d pity him, she’d want to rescue him and protect him because he couldn’t do it for himself. And he’d never be able to look her in the eye as a man worthy of her generosity afterwards. She would always know that he was weak, a coward, and a hypocrite for bullying others to ease his own insecurities.

She was a light. She saw the good in people, but there were deep dark holes in which no light could ever escape. He couldn’t let her get sucked into that because of his own darkness.

He noticed she’d gone quiet and looked over, seeing her buried into the pillow with an arm wrapped around it, a serene look upon her face with eyes closed and lips partially parted. The exhaustion of the day had caught up with her, effectively knocking her out mid-conversation. A soft smile tugged at his lips as he marveled at this sight he’d only dreamed of ever seeing. Quietly, he summoned his sketchpad and quill and set to capturing his sleeping muse.

As if Crookshanks knew the importance of this moment, he waited until Draco completed his sketch and closed the journal before leaping up and resting his majestic orange butt on top of her legs so he could be tended to with pettings once again. Draco chuckled and flicked his wand, sending the items back into his part of the room he shared with Theo and Blaise. He shifted his shoulders and gave himself a little slouch in order to be comfortable, for he figured with both her legs and her trusty familiar holding him firmly in place that he was going nowhere.

Not that he would complain. The soft purr of the orange fluff and crackle of the fire and occasional whish of the water against the windows was like a lullaby to his troubled mind. His last coherent thought would be one that would plague him in the near future, but it dissolved into the recess of his mind like most epiphanies born on the verge of exhaustion and enlightenment.

If she was such a creature of light, then what had brought her down here into the dark?  
…………………………


	35. Adjusting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the first day of Hermione being a Slytherin and having to adjust to the dark dorms, the scowls from certain Gryffindors, the behavior of some Slytherins and the constant click of the camera.

MONDAY April 10th, 1995

Knowing Draco was prone to sleep in, Theo and Blaise both agreed to set their alarms earlier than usual to rouse him, and hopefully before any one stepped foot into the common room and came upon a scene that would be all too damming. 

Their due diligence paid off.

When Theo woke with the crack of dawn-which surely he’d make Draco pay back in full for-and tip toed his way into the common room, he found a most adorable sight that he relished for several beats before rousing the towhead with as little disturbance as possible. Draco had his wand in hand, a half-pronounced spell on his lips before his eyes cleared and took in the features of his friend. 

Signaling for silence with a finger to his lips, Theo adverted any crisis from Draco acting in immediate defense and carefully lifted Hermione’s legs off his friends’ lap. Draco had to shuffle himself off to the side of the couch before rubbing some feeling back into his thighs and getting to his feet. Theo ushered him back to their shared room and then returned to wake Hermione, who was naturally startled as the room was as dark as she remembered it from the night before and brushed off his proclamation of the morning hour.

“Hermione, look, I know it’s dark but honestly, it really is morning. Good grief, what in the name of Merlin are you wearing?”

She rolled her eyes. “Are all Slytherins so obsessed with fashion?”

Without missing a beat he answered. “Yes. All the time. Wouldn’t be caught in less than the best. Now up Princess.” 

“Where’s Draco?” she inquired, lifting the blanket off and stretching.

“His Highness has his own beauty regime to adhere to. Couldn’t very well let you see him with a hair out of place now can he?” 

Somehow, despite the joking nature of Theodore Nott, she believed that was in all sense of the word, the honest truth. Theo handed her a freshly laundered and neatly folded pile of girls’ Slytherin uniform and robe and turned her into the direction of the loo to have some privacy. Having done two good deeds before having any breakfast, he had the feeling the day was just going to be chock full of them.

He was gonna tally and charge Draco interest at this rate.

Hermione felt drained despite having fallen asleep so sudden and deeply, not once had she felt disturbed or even woke with a stiff neck for being propped up by a sofa arm. The dim illumination of the common room and girls’ loo forced her to slap her cheeks and splash water on her face to force herself awake. It was all too easy to slip into the lulling comfort of the darkness and steal more precious minutes of sleep.

Her movements were languid at best as she made use of having the lavatory to herself, knowing its solitary reprieve was temporary and could possibly lead to a confrontation if she dallied. The thought brought a smirk to her lips. Her first day as a Slytherin and she was already anticipating having a target on her back with a list of suspects a mile long.  
‘Let someone try something’ she mused darkly while pulling up her knee high socks. ‘I took care of Ron like Child’s Play.’

The reminder of Ron brought a chill along her spine. The way he dared to touch her made her so angry at herself for putting her in that position anyways, and that he dared to take that liberty. A knee to the groin didn’t feel justified enough to balance that out. And so help anyone foolish enough to start a fight with her today.

Without wasting her daily routine bothering with makeup she left the bathroom just as the first girls were entering, some of them wrinkling their noses in disgust at her very presence into their inner sanctum. She was prepared for it, regardless of how bloodcurdling it was internally. It didn’t show on her face. It didn’t show with her squared shoulders. It certainly didn’t show with her strong stride back into the common room as she headed towards her trunk for her hairbrush.

Several unknowns were milling about like freshly risen dead. Hermione studied their movements, their mannerisms as they walked with purposeful slowness. Crookshanks allowed himself to be petted by some of the younger students, favoring the girls gentle petting more so than the boys.

“He’s so fluffy.” A darling in her Second Year declared. “He’s half-kneazle, isn’t he?”

She nodded, hair tie tucked in her teeth as she began pulling her hair up.

“Why’d you name him Crookshanks?” she asked with inquisitive dark blue eyes.

“I dithn’t.” Hermione answered, taking the stretchy band out of her mouth. “He was already named that when I got him.”

“Ah.” The little girl replied with a nod. “What would you have named him otherwise?”

Hermione blinked in surprise. She hadn’t really given it much thought. “I suppose something honoring a great philosopher or poet.” She shrugged, finishing the updo. A messy topknot would ensure hair out of her face and none that could easily be grabbed from behind. 

“Astoria!” Daphne shrieked, breaking the morning calm. “Get away from that Mudblood’s pet NOW.”

The little girl jumped in fright at the outburst, and Hermione whirled on Daphne, wand drawn. Pansy came hauling out of their room a beat later and grabbed onto her roommate fiercely. “She’s not doing any harm.”

Astoria immediately darted away from Hermione, the cat having darted to hide under another sofa. Daphne grabbed onto her far too tightly, causing the little dark haired brunette to cry out, triggering Hermione’s knee-jerk response to defend others.

“You don’t have to grab her like that.”

“You don’t tell me how to deal with my little sister you Gryffindor Traitor.” The blonde barked hotly, pushing her sibling back down the hall to finishing getting prepared.

Hermione inhaled. She knew there was nothing she could do about little Astoria. She was not going to get mixed up in a sibling rivalry, especially against this boisterous bitch. Their eyes were locked in a staring contest until Pansy finally yanked her hard enough to break the visual lock. “Let’s go Daph. It’s not worth getting into first thing.” She sighed, pushing her along towards the loo.

It wasn’t until they were around the corner that she tucked her wand away and released her breath. She wasn’t surprised in the slightest by this at all. Hell, she could’ve predicted this morning better than Trelawney, almost verbatim. She doubled checked the locks on her trunk and gathered her books, suddenly remembering Dumbledore’s words about a slight schedule change. A glance around brought her attention to the Noteboard where the entry password would be posted, and finding a sheet of parchment with her name at the top.

Marching straight over, she took it down and looked it over. Her class schedule had been rearranged so that she was included among all the standard Slytherin classes and what hours they were for. It drew her attention that any class taught by a Slytherin professor was never schedule before 10am. And she had a differently placed free hour.

“Missed the catfight.” Blaise stated as he strolled in. “Playing nice with the other snakes?”

She harrumphed. “More like being accosted for merely existing.”

“Testy.” He sassed back, holding his hands up. “Heard you wore sleep clothes so ugly Draco believes Finnigan would be buried in them.” The joke brought out a sharp laugh. She honestly was going to have to buy some Slytherin approved pajamas if she ever wanted a peaceful night’s slumber.

“Muggle fashion often leaves one wondering about the mindset of its designer.” She replied, tucking her new schedule into her satchel. “I never would’ve thought that my flannels would spark such a conversation piece.”

“Oh honey,” he drawled, “You have much to learn…”

It was becoming quite apparent that her lack of fashion sense was going to be a hot button that was going to be constantly pressed until she rectified it. She tossed her ponytail back. “And I bet you’re just dying to bequeath me with your glorious knowledge, aren’t you?” she snarked back with an overly sweet voice dripping with sarcasm as deep as the Black Lake.

Blaise snapped his fingers in the air three times in a zig-zag formation. “Girl. You are on fire this morning.”

With deadpan delivery she replied “I just hijacked a resorting ceremony, was bludgeoned with a teacup, patted on the head like the good little poster child that I’ve become, entered the snake pit and had to sleep on the bloody sofa in the common room because some hoity-toity pureblood has her knickers in a twist on my blood status and had to endure the ever so original slur thrown in my face first thing in the morning. And had my pajamas insulted no less than three times!” she hollered, thrusting three fingers in his face. “I say my day is off to a fan-fucking-tastic start and all I want to do is crawl into a bed.”

“Whoa Blaise, that’s quite a list she’s racked up there and we haven’t even had breakfast.” Theo laughed as he and Draco entered, taking a moment to pause and look her over. A flitting moment of silence danced overhead as Draco seemed to have frozen in his steps and Theo whistled.

“Hello beautiful, where have you been all my life?” he joked, stepping up to her and taking her hand. “Name’s Theodore but you can call me Yours.”

She nervously chuckled and silently thanked Theo for his mastery of easing tension in awkward moments as she cast her eyes over to Draco. It was like that moment at Yule Ball all over again. If he was a computer he would’ve shut down with a resounding crash. She could practically hear the dial-up tone in her head as he struggled to compose himself. Both his companions turned to see the highly entertaining and slightly disturbing sight of their unofficial leader rendered speechless in their presence.

“He’s not a morning person.” Blaise explained.

“Oh I know.” Hermione nodded, her ponytail bouncing. “I’ve noticed that not many of you are. At first I thought you like showing up late to make a grand entrance, but now I’m beginning to think that it’s due to these dark conditions and the extra effort it requires to wake up.”

Now Blaise and Theo joined Draco in their unified line of rendered dumb boys.

“No wonder Dumbledore brought it up.” She exclaimed, her gears already shifting and rolling in her clockwork mind. “He knew I’d immediately notice. And that’s why the lights are always so dim in Potions class!” she slammed a fist into the flat palm of her other hand. “You’re all suffering from a disruption in your circadian rhythm!” she whirled onto them and expected at least one of them to catch onto her train of thought but stopped short when she realized she sounded like a nutter trying to explain a complicated theory to sleep-riddled brains.

She shook her head and waved her hands at them. “Never mind. Let’s get you fed and cognitive.” 

At that moment Pansy and Daphne strolled up to them, Daphne’s eyes still daggers but her mouth shut in a firm line. “We’re ready boys.” Pansy stated with a swish of her dark bob. She took Hermione completely by surprise when she linked her arm in through hers and shot Daphne quite the eviscerating glare, sending the blonde packing over to Tracy and Millicent.

Apparently, the two had had words.

Finally snapping out of it, Draco squared his shoulders and marched around the girls, taking a leading position that Pansy escorted Hermione right behind, with Theo and Blaise taking the rear. She couldn’t help but feel protected, like they had purposely arranged themselves on all her sides like bodyguards. With the scathing looks shot by the likes of Flint, Crabbe, Goyle and Greengrass-among others she couldn’t name-she felt supremely grateful for that.

The march up to the Great Hall was nerve-wracking and felt like it took twice as long than the mad dash she’d take from the heights of the Gryffindor tower and still find her seat before half the Slytherin table filled, but now was not the case. The other tables were full, the chatter loud with the clank of eating suddenly lulled into a hush upon their arrival.

As someone who had always stood beside her friends when faced with such attention, she’d never felt more grateful to have someone standing in front of her, shielding her from the onslaught on stares as they broke their routine to gawk. Pansy’s arm looped with hers helped keep her from sinking to the floor. Having Theo place his hand on her shoulder steadied her electrified nerves. And then suddenly, Draco broke ranks and marched to his spot at the table, with Pansy steering her along to follow. She mustered every bit of remaining Gryffindor courage left in her veins and painted a smile on her face as if this was any other given day.

Their footsteps seemed to echo in the massive chamber as they seated themselves, all Slytherin coolness and indifferent to being the center of attention. Plates and cups materialized-due to that wonderful House Elf magic-and they started to reach for their food when Draco snapped “WHAT?” at the obvious ogling audience, startling many to snap out of it and return to their own business, others let their gaze linger.

Namely, the blackened-eye glare from Ronald Weasley three tables away.

For once, the stare down was directly and palpable between Weasley and Malfoy, there was no mistaking their daggered eyes aiming for anyone else. It was so visceral that several students shifted off to the side, clearing the staring path so they wouldn’t be caught in the middle and somehow be hexed with the power of a stare alone.

Ginny had elbowed Ron to get him to disengage, but he gruffly shoved her arm off without breaking contact with Draco’s cold grey gaze. She slammed her fork on the wooden tabletop and released a heated “Fine then!” and suddenly clambered over the Gryffindor table, knocking cups and baskets of muffins aside with every step across the surface. She leapt off the inner bench and marched straight up to the Hufflepuff table, tapping Cedric Diggory on his arm-which he immediately held out for her and assisted her so she could continue the same rampage across his own House’s table. Cho, sitting across from him, offered her hand to the little redhead to help her descend and turned to address her fellow housemates with a look that told them they better let her through.

Bodies scooted, taking their plates and cups with them as the brazen Gryffindor marched her way up the third table and down again with her friend Luna to meet her. They in turn both approached the Slytherin table, standing at the open gap right across from Hermione-who was rightfully shell shocked-and took to the bench on their knees and leaned over the table, pulling Hermione into a tight hug.

“You’re still Hermione. You’re still my friend.” Ginny said with no need to shout, as the room was drowning in silence. “Don’t let anyone make you think otherwise.”

Angelina, always ready with her camera, had captured several newspaper worthy shots that would end up gracing the front page of the next issue of the Hogwarts Daily paper. There was a mixture of slow claps and a few cheers-mainly from her remaining supporting Gryffindors as well as a few professors on the verge of tearing up at the brave display of friendship.

Colin Creevy also jumped on the potential of being the privileged few to witness the historic and clicked away as if his life depended on it. Draco grabbed his mug of coffee and turned away from Hermione and the girls, trying to look bored because he knew his father would be seeing these. Hiding his mouth behind the mug, he leaned over to Theo and grimaced.

“Maybe he’ll disown you?” his buddy chuckled lightly.

“That would be the easy route.” Draco scoffed. 

“Well you can’t stop the wizarding world from finding out about this. Not to mention just our school, but the two others that are here. News of this is going to be global by dinner.”

The blond groaned and slumped down to the table surface. Anyone else would just see it as him not fully awake and grumbling about the newest member to his House and all the fanfare, not the internal nightmare playing in his mind of the things his father would do or say once he learned of it.  
…………………………..

A renewed energy permeated the castles’ air, all voices abuzz over the extraordinary events that none had witnessed in their young lives.  
Granger a Slytherin.  
Ginevra Weasley stomping across tables to hug her in friend and then sauntering out of the Great Hall with Luna Lovegood on her arm like they were queens.  
Malfoy and his cronies apparently on amicable terms with the Chimera.  
Ronald Weasley sporting a black eye in a duel he instigated and lost against said Chimera.

It was all too much for students to pay attention to in class.

Paper aeroplanes and charmed notes fluttered between students and out the windows every time a professor’s back was turned. Far less softer and kinder items were aimed at Hermione from students of all ages and Houses in every class and in the halls to which she first ignored but then had started hurling the items back with a little curse that left a colorful burst of color upon the person it struck. She got the idea from the exploding dye packs tellers would slip into the money bags during robberies that would render the currency useless and leave the perpetrator literally red-handed.

Madam Pomfrey refused to treat any further cases of the “Color Bombs” after the first half dozen students ran to the infirmary screaming bloody murder and honestly looking a little like it, but once it was discovered to be harmless dye she shooed everyone out with threats of detention if so help her another student dared to show their red/blue/green face in her office again.

Then came the graffiti.

Artists of all caliber-and honestly some who could barely write legibly let alone even attempt picking up an artist quill-began doodling highly unflattering images of Miss Granger and in various stages of Chimera form started surfacing up everywhere she went. It was juvenile and petty, and she put up a good front of at first, merely laughing them off, until more graphic and higher quality work-some being in color-started finding their way into her schoolbag and seat.

So incensed by the blatant harassment and debasement of her character that in a barely controlled fit she set fire to every parchment on every students’ desk-ruining quite a bit of dedicated homework, including her own-and stormed out leaving the poor professor to merely cancel the assignment and move on to another. She could’ve sworn she heard a camera click when she exited stage left.

Storming down into the depths of the dungeons, she let her anger fuel her steps until she was practically on top of the Potions class door before she realized he was teaching another year and stopped herself from interrupting their lesson. It was her first bloody day as a Slytherin and here she was, already running to her Head of House. And for what? What was Snape gonna do about paper aeroplanes and crudely drawn hybrid sketches and whispered insults? If anything, he’d say it was what she needed in order to grow a thicker skin.

“Since when the hell do I even think of what Snape will say?” she muttered to herself as she made her way to the common room entrance with the password, lifting the painting-turned-tapestry and stepped inside the soft green light. Taking a moment to let her eyes adjust, she did notice it was a tad bit lighter in here despite still being submerged in the cloak of liquid darkness of the Black Lake.

“These guys really need natural lighting.”

She shucked off her brand new Slytherin robe and slung it over the back of a chair, taking in the gothic décor of her new surroundings with the privacy granted in this moment. Loath as she was to admit it, that old pureblood supremacist Salazar had excellent taste. Heck, didn’t all the Bond villains have the coolest lairs and Maleficent rock some killer robes? Perhaps a flipside of being one of those narcissistic dictators with ideal of a “pure” society or world domination under their belief was just a wicked fashion sense. Gotta look good if you plan on ruling with an iron fist and suffering no fools.

Figuring now was as good as any time; she crossed the common room and headed down Girls’ side, finding hallways that branched out for girls of each year. The rooms were lavish with green and silver bedding and curtains-superfluous really considering-and furniture carved from blonder wood than she would’ve imagined but it made sense with how everything else was so dark down here, one needed to break up the monotone.

Alas, all rooms were already filled, although she noted with a twinge of jealousy that the sleeping arrangements were made for no more than three to a room while she suffered with four other girls in hers. The notion that Slytherin was strictly a house of pure and half-bloods meant that they had less children and more money and probably pushed for more privacy for their attending students. The other houses accepted without prejudice, hence why they had larger number of students and crammed them like sardines.

She couldn’t very well live out of her trunk in the common room without any protection or privacy for the rest of the term; she simply needed a room, even a small one. Curiosity drove her to do something rash and without second guessing her choice she marched into the Boys’ side and into the hall for the Fourth Years. The first door she opened was a room she immediately guessed was housing both Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle because it was a mess and smelled of sweaty socks. She couldn’t understand why some boys liked to live in their own filth-wizard or not. Pinching her nose, she pulled the door closed wondering how often the House Elfs’ had to scourgify that poor room.

The next one provided results. Three beds in here, spaced out and spacious, organized and clean. Given how fastidious Zabini, Nott, and Malfoy were with their hygiene and appearance it was damn near impossible to tell apart which bed belonged to which boy and she wasn’t about to start pawing through the room of the boy she’d just agreed to let court her.

But it was still insight. Each bedroom contained a window-or two depending on the larger ones accommodating three bodies. She made sure to count each one as she swiftly opened each door and peaked in and tally it up along with windows she counted from the common room. There was a Slytherin library of its own and what appeared to be a conference room which neither had windows, and there was the odd little alcove like room she came upon, that had no door and a smaller window, but was large enough to be a single dorm….

She pondered a moment. If no one else was willing to share their room with her, she could commandeer this for herself. All she would need is to transfigure herself a door and bed for starters, and then work on furnishings. Another night on a common room sofa with someone “standing guard” was not ideal for her. Or for whoever was appointed guardian either. She couldn’t very well expect Draco to be willing to do that every single night regardless of his debt to her.

Draco Malfoy. What a contraction unto himself. He made her head spin and knees weak but she couldn’t very well forget how he had treated her before. Had it really all been a cover for deeper feelings? Theo said he had drawn images of her, he said his mother has known for a while, Harry said he slipped her the note on basilisks… And now he’d sent her flowers and stayed by her all night to ensure no deviant Slytherins decided to something untoward her in the night. Did that really sound the actions of someone merely pretending to have feelings?

She nibbled her lip in contemplation as she mapped out the dimensions of the room in her mind. She’d have to settle for a twin sized bed, but she could turn this little “reading room” into her own abode, given that it was an unused dust-riddled hole in the wall squashed right along with their lovely little library and meeting room.

Setting to work, she levitated her trunk and other belongings-encased with a protection spell to ensure their safety before she left for class-and brought it in. Ever since learning how easy it was to transfigure inanimate objects into something else entirely, she’d seen to hitting up a few muggle craft stores and the like over the summer, picking up supplies for her to practice with. All stored within an old shoebox, she found a pack of popsicle sticks-they’d make a wonderful door-a bag of mixed style beads, one of which would become her door handle, a swatch of faux fur fabric that she settled on becoming a rug, and then a hodgepodge of things like clothes pins, a sponge, a few collected feathers, more selected fabrics and popsicle sticks to create a bed, pillow and bedding to boot. Without a wardrobe she’d have to resort to crafting a simple clothing rack with clothes hangers crafted from paper clips and a bookcase from the last of her popsicle supply. Needing a desk and chair to go with was the easy part, for she’d brought decent and fully functional wooden doll furniture to practice her Engorgio as well as levitation for when she brought the object to “real size”. Larger objects were by far more complicated as they took up more energy and required stronger concentration to cover the entire surface area of said object.

Course everyone thought she was crazy for thinking that far ahead, but her mother had raised her to always have a plan. A plan for the day, a plan for the week, a plan in case plans go awry.

‘Who’s the crazy one now?’ she smirked to herself.

It was shoddy at worst, but would’ve made for a spectacular project had she’d actually been assigned it, knowing McGonagall would’ve been inclined to give her no less than an E. An entire bedroom furnished with simple everyday materials. Flipping open her trunk she pulled out personal effects and school supplies, setting them out on her desk and in the bookshelf. With enough of her stuff out to finally feel like she was in a place of her own, she pulled out a sheet of parchment and began calculating just how many windows she’d counted.

Hogwarts was a strange castle. That in itself was the understatement of the wizarding world. But why have a castle where dorms are submerged in in darkness and have windows if no sunlight ever touches them? Had Hogwarts been a castle built upon its location, or moved there? Or ramshackled together from several types of castles and united as one with just a few extension charms and added on corridors? Either way, living in perpetual darkness was not sitting well with her and she was going to do something pretty damn drastic.  
…………………..


	36. Understandings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione finds out that being a Slytherin is more than just wearing green and having an attitude. A little catnap puts in perspective just how endangered her life is as tempers flare in the school. A meeting with Snape reveals just how deep the well of secrecy goes.

Hermione woke, startled and immediately on the defense when hands touched her. She jerked up with a start, wand aimed at the throat of the raven haired witch who just roused her from an unexpected catnap. Normally, her wand at Pansy Parkinson’s throat would’ve been a daydream of hers in retaliation of all those abhorrent jokes about her hair and teeth, but such was not the case when she could clearly hear her name being called by other voices, and in various octaves.

“Guys, I found her!” Pansy hollered to her open doorway. “Over by the conference room.”

Moments later three sets of rumbling feet came charging up and squished themselves as they all tried to enter first.

“What the bloody hell Hermione?” Draco bellowed, reminding her an awful lot like Ron in that moment. 

She covered her mouth as another yawn escaped her lips. “It’s called a nap Draco.” She clipped back. “I’ve been tired all day.”

“You missed lunch, and Potions.” Theo pointed out before Draco could explode again. “Needless to say, Snape insisted you be found.”

“Oh.” Her eyes went wide. That had been two full hours, not counting how much of the free period she had dozed off in as well.

“Great Merlin’s Balls Granger, we thought we might be looking for your body or something. No one knew where you ran off too after setting fire to everyone’s homework in Arthimacy class!” Blaise snapped, cramming himself into the makeshift bedroom. “And what the hell is this?” He gestured to the room.

“Made myself a dorm since no one wants to share.” She answered flatly. “Transfigured everything with materials I bought to practice with.”

“You mean to tell me while we had a bloody search party-which included several of your Gryffindor buddies-that you were playing Little Miss Transfiguration Queen and made a damn bedroom?” the impatient dragon roared, fists clenched at his sides. 

She leaned back at the vehemence in his voice at the same time observing that the search would’ve ended much quicker had it just been Harry and the Map. But it would appear that neither Draco nor Theodore had shared its existence with anyone else and had searched for her the old fashioned way.

“We couldn’t detect your magic in use.” Pansy went on to clarify. “So we assumed you’d been knocked unconscious and tore through everything we could think of a place someone would stash a body.”

The words were grim, but a cold dose of reality. She had no doubts that there were students here capable of doing something like that.

Blaise pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m gonna go inform the others so they can quit fretting.” He announced, storming out of the little room.

“I…just fell asleep.” She replied numbly.

Pansy puffed out her cheeks. “Theo, let’s go.” She said, tugging his sleeve. His mouth popped open to protest, but one look at the fuming blond trying not to erupt like Mt Vesuvius was all the motivation he needed.

“Nice room.” He quipped as he allowed Pansy to pull him away.

Tension crackled in the air as she swallowed the lump in her throat, regarding the near white fury in his normally placid grey eyes. He was quite literally trembling with rage, his knuckles white against pink fists.

“Jesus Draco, calm down before you give yourself an aneurysm.”

“Calm? Down?” he intoned dangerously. “There are already reporters banging on the gates wanting to get the exclusive interview with you, owls are flying in and out faster than Christmas morning and you’ve been harassed all day to the point of setting fire to schoolwork and you tell me to…calm the bloody hell down?”

“I’m fine-”

“Well I haven’t been!” he shouted over her and grabbed her upper arms. “For the love of dragons Hermione… Do you have any idea of what I’ve been through for the past two and a half hours?”

Suddenly she was six years old, gripped in the tight embrace by her frantic mother as her father paced back and forth, all the while between tears the terrified mother tried explaining why she simply could not walk off like that and how dangerous it was for a little girl to be by herself. Hermione knew it wasn’t safe to cross the street without looking, because she was tiny, but she’d waited for the hand sign just like everyone else. She didn’t talk to any strangers even though several adults asked if she was lost-to which she replied no and continued her merry way. It was just for a moment, that’s all. She knew where they were, until she turned around and they weren’t….

Tears started welling up in her eyes. 

For a moment Draco was worried he was hurting her so he immediately let go of her arms and knelt down in front of her, gently taking one of her hands and covering it with the other. “I’m sorry.” He said sincerely. “Me and my temper…”

“No you’re right. You had every reason to be worried for me. Considering everything lately…” she gestured to the air. “And knowing my track record for near death experiences…” she forced out a weak laugh.

“I don’t doubt you’re fully capable of handling your own, except…well, I think you overestimate yourself. Haven’t the past years here taught you anything? And not academically.” He straightened himself up to better meet her eye. “You’re not safe here. You never have been. Troll in the bathroom, basilisks, stupid hippogriffs…me…”

She jerked up when he included himself in the list. Before she could protest he continued.

“Come on, let’s face it. Had I not intervened at Yule you and Ron would’ve made up and gotten all chummy again. You rebuffed him and he’s retaliated and all these stupid fights has brought you down here, and you know the majority of Slytherins would rather toss you into the Black Lake but are too afraid to make it known.” He clenched his hands tighter over hers. “I’d rather you not wander down here by yourself…”

With her free hand she wiped quickly at her eye, smearing the wet drop into her skin before it could fall. He had been worried sick. About her. He’d gotten her friends as well as his own to search for her. Two whole hours of not knowing where she was or what had happened to her. Thinking the worst and knowing it was a high probability. His accidental hard grip on her arms and now genuflecting before her to show he meant no harm….These were not actions of a pretender.

“Draco…How long have you liked me?”

“Do you want an exact number of days? Or will a close estimate suffice?”

“I highly doubt you have the exact number in your head, for it would change daily. But Theo said…”

His eyebrows rose. “Theo said what?”

She nibbled her lip. Her eyes shifted off to the side. Her free hand began curling and flexing, nails grazing her palm before he laid a hand atop to stop her. “Hermione, do I need to go strangle it out of him, or will you just be out with it already?”

“He said you’ve drawn me!” she blurted out, perhaps a little too loudly, but there it was. No taking it back now. “I didn’t even know you could draw…”

Draco snorted a breath out through his nose and then rose to his feet, pulling on her hand so she could stand with him. “I had private tutoring in my wee years. All pureblood society place high expectations on their future generation, as magic can be woven into other talents such as painting and musical endeavors. I am skilled, yes, but I highly doubt they’re gallery worthy-”

“I want to see.” She stated firmly, interrupting him as he was often doing with her.

He smiled. “Of course you do. But I don’t really go about showing them off. Obviously Theo knows, not only because he takes Art with me but he’s a nosy parker at times and it was best to finally let him see than dealing with his pestering. He can be such a child…”

“Oh and like you are immune to your little fits?” she giggled, teasing him. He allowed it, knowing she was safe and sound was worth the jab at his pride.

He looked around her room and was actually amazed at the furnishings, transfigured as they were. “You actually made all of this? From what?”

“Oh not all of it. The desk and chair are actually doll furniture I Engorgio’d but it has functioning drawers and the seat is not that bad. The rest I did make. Bought craft supplies over the summer.”

“Craft supplies?” he questioned, looking at the “footboard” of her bed with skepticism.

She rolled her eyes. Was there ever going to be a conversation with a pureblood that didn’t involve her describing every single little thing from her world? She let go of his hand and opened her trunk, removed the shoebox and flipped open its lid. She held it out for him to investigate.

Curiosity took over his instincts and he sat down, fingers rummaging through the box of random junk with rapt fascination. What was mere pittance of inconsequential items held this wealthy aristocratic wizard in much the same way some muggleborn would with a chest of enchanted objects.

“What do you do with stuff like this?” he asked, eyes roving the bag of beads like they were jewels.

“Make things.” She shrugged. “Crafts are just a way for people to do something artistic to release creative energy. They glue things together, make little models, mold clay into animals or whatever, twist wire together and decorate it with beads, string shells with twine and hang it up in windows, honestly…anything.”

“Would you make me something?” he asked, looking up at her with eyes that immediately melted her heart.

She blinked for several beats. “Make. You. Something.” She enunciated slowly, just so she was clear.

“What’s wrong with that? You made all this.” He gestured to the room.

“Yeah but this is all junk. It honestly has no value other than for being the material it is. There’s no precious metals or gemstones or-”

“I don’t care about that.” He stated sharply.

“Quit interrupting me.” She huffed indignantly. “I’m trying to tell you that this stuff is the basically the equivalent of rubbish, hence why it is so cheap to buy. And you with your emerald encrusted, golden paged Floriography book want me to make something for you with that?”

She realized the instant she said it that she messed up.

His nails dug into the sides of the box for a moment, then he rose to his feet and roughly set the box on her desk. “Never mind then. Clearly I was mistaken that material things didn’t matter, as does my family’s wealth.” His voice was icy and calm.

“I didn’t mean it like tha-”

“Oh really? Then how exactly did you mean it?” he leaned in with his signature sneer on his face. His eyes had gone hard instantly. “Pretty sure I heard loud and clear that ‘emerald encrusted, golden paged Floriography book’ with utter disdain despite it being something my mother clearly thought you’d enjoy for the sake of its contents rather than its monetary worth. But all you see are galleons don’t you?”

Her lips quivered as she had nothing to refute that.

“I thought I lost you today and you still have the nerve to insult my social standing-as if that’s something I can honestly control.”

“Oh like how you insulted my blood status every day for two years?” she snapped back instantly, always ready to defend herself against that dreaded word. Her hands clamped over her mouth. “Fuck.” She whispered a second later.

He’d turned his head, eyes glossy as he took a moment to sniff with indifference as he crossed his arms. “I guess you haven’t really forgiven me then…” he all but whispered.  
She turned her head in the opposite direction, towards her doorway, seeing it wide open and knowing every word had echoed marvelously down to the common room and to whoever was lounging within.

“It’s…it’s…” still covering her mouth, stifling the sob.

“I didn’t think it would hurt so much.” He confessed. “It’s just a word.” He was staring hard at the bookcase she constructed, admiring the handiwork. Straight lines, evenly spaced, level. “A stupid word.”

“Words can hurt.” She whispered, hands rubbing along her arms.

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m beginning to see that.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Flowers and an ‘I’m sorry’ don’t seem adequate enough. But that’s what I know to do.”  
“Muggle men give them to women too. Sometimes with chocolate. Or a teddy bear.” She sniffed. 

“I guess men aren’t all that different, magical or not.” He replied. He turned back to look at her. “Tell me what you want then. What I can do. This is one puzzle I don’t know how to solve without help.”

She turned her head and caught his gaze, reminding herself to breathe. “I can’t tell you what to do and then have you do it. Because it wouldn’t be…real. You’ve got to figure it out...somehow.”

“Well that’s bloody helpful.” He scoffed. “I’m. Trying.” He gestured firmly with his hands to make those last two words resonate in her head.

She nodded. “I know….It’s still too easy to remember who you’ve been more than what…we’ve…been doing.” She squeezed her upper arms tightly.

He brought both his hands up and rubbed them over his eyes, up to his hairline and then slowly back down again. Then they rubbed together and aligned the ridge of his nose and stayed. “I’ve liked you far too long to not notice that you bite your lip when you’re nervous. That you study and work twice as hard because yes, you are muggleborn and you want to prove that you’ve got what it takes to be here. I notice how you are casual with touches among your friends; the closer you are with them, the more your hand touches them.” He voice grew softer as he continued, lowering his hands. 

“Course, your closest friends have also been boys so naturally…everyone’s been wondering which one of them it was. Who was clever enough to get with Hermione Granger? I know that you try taming your hair with Sleekeazy’s and whatever muggle product you use because I can’t identify it.” He reached out and touched a single curly lock. “I’ve been driven mad enough to actually go and smell every hair product the wizarding world has to offer and whatever you use…it’s its own. It’s you.”

Her mouth parted but no words came out.

“I noticed how your eyes shift from a rich chocolate to a golden amber in the light, and how it makes your freckles stand out. You get so absorbed when you’re reading that a fire could start and you’d never notice. And that’s my favorite. Because I get to see how fast your eyes work, and how you hold up your index finger while you read, poised to turn the page. You’re brilliant and you own the space you take up the moment you enter a room. Everyone notices, even if they don’t look. Your energy pulls at us, demands adoration.”

Blinking, she still said nothing.

“And all I’ve ever wanted was someone like you.”

Finished, he stood there, bringing his hands down to rest at his sides. He’d never been so open and honest before in his entire life, and it was terrifying as much as it was gratifying. He’d seen the inner flame dance in her eyes as he recalled every facet of the gem that Hermione Granger was, bringing things to light she had not even noticed about herself.

But that’s what happens when you sit three tables away for three years.

“Jesus Draco…we’re only fifteen…” she said, breathless and flustered.

“Not quite.” He corrected. “I still have fifty-six days.”

She brought a hand up to wipe at her nose and also cover the slight curl of her lip at that ever-so-Draco response. It was taking a moment to process every word he’d just said of that beautiful confession, it nearly sounded like a proposal. She was worried the next thing he’d do was get on his knees again, not prepared in the slightest for something heavy like that.

“I unfortunately don’t have anything near as eloquent to counter that.” She confessed sheepishly. She only had measures in weeks, days, minutes, not years.

“I’m aware.” He answered. “My actions belay my feelings, and the harsher I was the more I just desperately wanted you to acknowledge me.”

She couldn’t take anymore. In the next moment she was against his chest, arms wrapped tight around his torso and squeezing for all she was worth as she felt his slowly trail down to her elbows and finally meet at her lower back.

“You’re such an idiot.” She cried into his shirt. “The biggest idiot in the entire school.”

Draco cocked his head as he clearly heard the insulting words but the tone in which they were spoken was far from it. Like, it was almost complimenting, endearing even. And she was clutching onto him like her life depended on it, so that surely must be a good thing, right?

“Hermione, love, you’re going to have to explain this conflicting behavior.” He stated, because he was utterly confused. “Is being an idiot a good thing now?”

“Yes!” she wailed, muffled as it was he felt the vibrations travel up his sternum and rattle his shaken up heart.

He wasn’t going to argue. Not when she was willingly standing in his arms rather than slapping him. A pent up breath released with satisfaction and he took the opportunity to nuzzle his nose against her hair. One day, he was going to learn what it was that she used that had ensnared him so. He’d buy the damn company if he had to in order to make sure she never had a shortage.  
………………………..

“If they haven’t killed each other, chances are they’re snogging.” Theo proclaimed as he and Pansy returned back to the Slytherin common room after meeting with Snape to inform him that not only was their little Chimera safe and sound, napping, but that she made herself her own dorm room so as not to disrupt any roommate dynamics.

Professor Snape raised an eyebrow. “Really now? Pray tell.”

“The little reading room over by the library and conference room. Hell, I had forgotten it even exited, no one ever uses it. Brilliant really.” Theo answered with no hesitation.

“Well, I suppose that will suffice. A door and everything?”

They both nodded.

“And Zabini is informing the Gryffindors?”

They nodded again.

“Very well then. Do send her to my office after dinner.” He ordered, shooing them away as he looked over his current class’s cauldrons. “Too much dragon liver Uppington, have a care with that ingredient unless you want to shell out the galleons required to procure an entire dragon.”  
………………………

The sharp knock on her popsicle crafted door had jolted them back to the real world, breaking the tender kiss Draco had just started bequeathing her lips. Inwardly she cursed herself for not closing the door at any given point during her time alone with him, but half of it had been contentious and then the other half…well, that had been enlightening to say the least.

“Told ya.” Theo called over his shoulder to the head of dark hair standing behind him.

“Well it’s not like I disagreed with you.” She scoffed, chewing on gum and blowing a little bubble of pink sugar.

“Guys? Really?” Draco said with a definitive hint of GET OUT that went unheeded as the duo strolled into the tiny space.

“Snape wants you in his office after dinner. And I highly doubt it’s to go over your decorative prowess.” Pansy drawled with a lazy wave of her hand.

“I’d like to see you transfigure an entire bedroom Pans.” Draco snipped at her, hinting at her lack of prowess in that field. 

“Just relaying the message.” She sighed with a devil-may-care smile and investigative tap of the clothespin bedframe. “Well, as long as you’re able to close your door and ward it you should be fine. I’d make sure that you do that every time you leave as well or you may find a cobra in your bed. Or worse.”

“I already planned to.” Hermione replied, feeling a little self-conscious about being in Draco’s arms like she was, while having a conversation with his ex. 

“Hurry up with your cozy time, common room’s gonna start filling up soon with the upperclassmen.” She forewarned as she took her leave, a smiling and winking Theo following behind.

Draco shook his head. “Those two…”

“Is Pansy really ok with this?” Hermione looked up at him, mahogany eyes shining. 

“She’s completely fine Ma Belle; otherwise she’d be right along with Greengrass. I know when she’s lying and she’s warming up to this. Her looking around in here was just another way of measuring you up. You should know her family is renowned for their impeccable taste in antiques and artistic craftsmanship. It’s not the materials you use, but how well you execute into the final product. It has to function, be sturdy, and also ascetically pleasing.”

She gave her room a quick self-conscious onceover before Draco nuzzled against her ear and kissed her along her jawbone. “Are you still mad with me?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking that? After all, you went on a wild goose chase for me. What happened with our potion assignment?”

Of course she would be concerned about the schoolwork. “It was perfect, naturally. You have the best potion partner in the whole damn school at your disposal.” He smirked at her. “And no, I am not mad. But you’re never doing that again or I will tether you to my side with a Short Distance leash so help me Salazar.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. Her mother had said something quite nearly identical to that once the lecture and tears and hugs were over.   
……………………….

Dinner was blessedly uneventful. No table stomping, food throwing, insult hurling, or nasty pranks came her way. She waved to her Gryffindor friends, confirming she was quite alright, as well as confirming who she could still consider a friend.

Three Weasley’s, Johnson and of course Potter. 

Everyone else merely acknowledged her presence as yet another Slytherin and to not be engaged with. Harsh, but she’d known it was coming. She hoped over time that Seamus and Dean would come around as they were only other Gryffindors with a respectable amount of common sense and had always been amicable with her before all this upheaval. They were probably struggling internally just as much as Harry and Ginny were.

After pudding she rose to leave and Draco was immediately on her heels, ignoring the stares and glares from his obvious behavior. If there was any doubt, it was succinctly squashed by the overprotective boyfriend aura he was giving off. Not like it mattered much, Granger’s reputation a wizard playing witch with a mean streak a mile wide was keeping plenty of other wizards at bay.

Snape would’ve been more surprised if Draco hadn’t joined Granger in his office after the evening meal. But it played into his hand perfectly as he handed the boy a letter his father had corresponded to earlier.

“You told him?” Draco all but screamed as he read the first line.

“No need for theatrics.” The professor drawled. “Your father had to be informed one way or another and no better trusted source than your own godfather. After all, my loyalty to your family is unwavering as everyone knows,” Hermione detected a heavy amount of sarcasm but said nothing, “and my disdain for this particular former Gryffindor well documented. What Lucius believes is what you told him a week ago,” at this she saw Draco go rigid and oddly silent, “as well as my own machinations.”

She remained stoic and waited for the other shoe to drop.

“You, Miss Granger are being Imperio’d under my command and are now the ever so dedicated Slytherin swot completely enamored with the young Malfoy heir. Granted, you planted those seeds when you ‘stole her away from Weasley’,” he recited with finger quotations, “and I merely helped you along with achieving your ultimate revenge against said rival. Your father seems validated in both our versions of the truth.”

Draco seemed to recover some motor function, for he quickly glanced over the letter and made a disgusted groan in his throat before tossing it back onto Snape’s desk. He looked positively ill. Hermione could only imagine the vulgar things his father had written regarding her.

“And you Miss Granger,” he called her attention with that chilly tone. “While I realize this little switch may take some getting used to, you must consider the risks you run of wandering the dungeons alone. There is only so much protection Draco and I can offer you. I’d rather not go down in the history books for having the Chimera of 1995 being brutally murdered under my watch by unknown means…if you understand my meaning.”

Her blood ran ice cold. Now she knew why Draco had been so scared. Someone had obviously made threats or voiced an opinion that Snape was well aware of but couldn’t act upon. All she could do was nod.

Draco slid his fingers in between hers and squeezed her hand.

“Your little romance can play out like the farce everyone believes it to be, so enjoy it while you have it. And I’m to inform you that you have interviews arranged for The Daily Prophet and Quibbler, as well as the school’s paper this week. You’ll be with either McGonagall, Dumbledore, and myself for at least one of them. And I need not remind you to only answer the questions and provide nothing further for that parasite Skeeter to embellish.”

The mention of Rita Skeeter set her eye to twitch. “Give me five minutes alone with her and she’ll never embellish anything again.” She vowed darkly.

Draco shivered. He was not looking forward to informing Hermione as to why Skeeter had targeted her in the first place, but if he was to atone for his sins, he knew it must be done.  
……………………………….

“Wait, why are we heading up to the Gryffindor tower?” Draco asked after they marched up several flights of stairs once leaving Snape’s office.

“I need to talk to Harry.” She stated matter-of-factly, making even strides as he seemed winded the further up they went.

“Merciful Merlin.” He huffed. “You made this trek every bloody day? No wonder all you lions bulk out.”

They stopped short of the portrait of the Fat Lady who cast her a disdainful and indignant sniff that Hermione was used to from purebloods and Slytherins alike.

“You’re not allowed here anymore.” The woman stated haughtily.

“I know that.” Hermione answered politely. “I’m not asking for entry, just for a friend to come out. I do still have friends here.”

The woman shifted uncomfortably.

Hermione was undoubtedly Slytherin material with her big baby eyes and little lip pout. Draco would’ve wagered this look got her away with so much, even against other hard-ass professors like Vector or the librarian Pince.

It was highly effective against the lady in the painting, and her resolve ended after a momentary inner debate. “Just this once young lady. They haven’t changed the password yet.” Draco rolled his eyes. How bloody foolish.

“Hopscotch.” Hermione stated clearly with a nod in thanks. The portrait swung open but she dared not step a foot inside the red and gold interior. After a moment of silence, a beautiful head of long red hair swished by and did a double take, suddenly rushing up to meet her.

“OhmygodHermionewhatareyoudoinghere!” Ginny’s one breath sentence would give Seamus a run for his fast paced Irish tongue.

“Hey, I just wanted to let you know I was fine. I found a spot and took a nap. But I really gotta ask Harry something. Please?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll go get him. You to wait just ‘round the corner and I’ll send him out.” She quickly answered.

“Gin, wait.” Hermione grabbed the girl’s arm. “Without being obvious about it, please ask him to bring his…map…” she said in a hushed tone.

“Oh you mean the one the twin’s gave him a while back?” she said brightly.

Hermione was taken back by the fact Ginny had been aware of its existence the entire time but had never once mentioned it. She never had a need to, but the girl knew how to keep her lips locked on certain matters. Ron was more of a gossip than she was. And the twins were sneaky, only trusting to those on the same caliber as themselves. Obviously, Ron did not fit the bill because they had given it to Harry rather than their own brethren. With a nod to confirm, Hermione sent Ginny off to her task as she and Draco stepped back from the portrait and around the corner of the hall.

“How gaudy. All that bloody maroon and gold.” He scoffed. “Godric really wanted to let his students think they were royalty.”

“Says the so-called Slytherin Prince.” Hermione tossed at him with a flick of her hair and roll of her eyes.

“Pshaw, at least I have the gold to back that title up.” He joked. “I didn’t give myself that nickname, just so you’re aware.” He quickly added, hearing footsteps slap against the stone flooring.

“I didn’t start calling myself the Princess of Gryffindor either.” She clarified.

Harry rounded on them and drew Hermione into a hug so fast that Draco had to fight the urge to protect her. He knew only Harry was allowed to be so casual-even aggressively-with her, not that it did his ego any soothing. It wasn’t until the hug-which lasted a little too long for his comfort-ended that Harry was even aware Draco was standing mere inches away.

“Eh, hello Malfoy.” He greeted warily.

“Yes, nice to see you too.” Draco replied in a tight voice.

“Boys, play nice.” Hermione warned them in motherly administration. A handful of years of family dinners at the Weasley’s had given Hermione all the insight needed on how to wrangle unruly boys.

They both turned on her. “We are!” they exclaimed, then glared at each other and grew red in the cheeks.

She giggled. Maybe Theo was not completely off the mark. In the way of friendship at least. God, that’d be awkward…the two of them…with her?

She coughed and shook her head. “Anyway. Harry. Why didn’t you use the Map to find me?”

“I tried.” He exclaimed bitterly. “But I had it stored away in my room and since you’re not Gryffindor anymore Snape insisted I had no need to go to the tower and to concentrate on places you would otherwise be.”

She looked at Draco. “And you didn’t tell anyone?”

“Even I know the importance of an item like that. Sure, it’s a powerful artifact and the less who know about it the better. Honestly, I can’t believe the two of you even trusted Theo and me. But we weren’t about to blab that you literally have an item capable of spying on every single body within the school and then have it confiscated. Because that’s exactly what would’ve happened.”

Harry and Hermione took a moment to weight his words.

“And then you both would’ve hated me.” He added, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. “You two are giving me a chance. And I’d like to not fuck it up. So yeah, I knew with the map we’d find you in a quick minute…but at what cost to the mission? To your friendship with each other? And to me? The longer we searched the more I fought with myself. It took everything I had not to drag your arse up here myself and demand you get the damn thing.” He looked directly at Harry for the last sentence. “And I’m sure you felt the same way.”

“I did.” Harry admitted.

Hermione had to take a moment to consider that however logical it was to use the map in the case of a missing person, revealing its existence would’ve destroyed any further secret sleuthing on their mission. And unmasking this Barty Crouch Jr guy seemed pretty important in the regards of who he supported. And having four friends who set aside their personal comfort to keep it unknown despite however much it would’ve helped them warmed her heart greatly.

“You guys…” she sniffed.

“Oh please don’t start crying again.” Draco begged. Honestly, this girl possessed far too many emotions and triggers for those blasted tears-happy or sad-and how easily she went into waterworks was beyond him.

“Again?” Harry caught onto that blasted last word.

Draco sighed. “We kinda had…a little tiff.” He strangled out a half-arsed reply. With Harry’s piercing emerald orbs focused on him with soul penetrating clarity he cleared his throat and quickly explained that a misunderstanding led them to dredge up some bitter memories before he cleared it up.

He glanced over at Hermione. “And please for the love of Salazar do not repeat what I told you.” He begged of her.

Her twinkling eyes and warm smile was all the confirmation both boys needed. “You’re lucky your friends didn’t hear any of it.”

“Don’t remind me.” he replied with a roll of his eyes.

Harry stepped in between the couple and clapped his hands twice for their attention. Jesus these two…didn’t they realize there were other people around when they started talking to each other? What a total 180 they were when not in a verbal onslaught. “Why’d Ginny tell me to bring the blasted map?”

“I need to borrow it.” She stated without hesitation.

“What?” the two of them replied in unison. This time when they looked at each other they shared an impish smile and then glared back onto their trouble-causing darling.  
“You two I swear to God.” She sighed. “Look, I need to familiarize myself with the area down there, so something like today doesn’t happen again. You’ll have it right back by dinner.” It was a half-truth, but they didn’t need to know that.

With a heavy sigh and the barest hint of hesitation, Harry pulled the map out of his back pocket. He knew he could trust her, but there were times when he wasn’t sure if that was merely because he feared her and what she was capable of doing to him. He’d never said it out loud, but since First Year he often thought that she should’ve been a Slytherin all along.

After receiving the precious artifact and tucking it away in between her vest and shirt she pulled Harry into a hug, the map crinkling with the pressure of their bodies touching, further grating on Draco’s ears and nerves. Far too huggy for his taste, unless it was with him. But he hadn’t had years of trust building rapport with her to earn that…yet.  
…………………………


	37. Wow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Hermione suddenly experience that certain something and things take an unexpected turn. Can it really all be blamed a simple pair of glasses?

Draco wanted to press on further about why Hermione needed the Marauders’ Map but portraits had ears and mouths. Speaking openly of such a thing would ensure the entire castle’s awareness of it by tomorrow’s lunch-if that. He did however; take the opportunity to hold her hand as they descended the many staircases and hallways until they reached their common room entrance.

Standing at the entrance, they hesitated. Should they enter still holding hands?

“Screw it.” She said, pulling him along in with her as she entered.

He for one, was never going to tire of that little streak of Gryffindor bravery, even with all the troubles it tended to cause. Never a dull moment with this one.

Walking her across the common room and down the hall to where all Slytherins knew their library resided, no one bothered to spare them much attention. It would seem that the location of her self-procured bedroom was of little significance to them if any of them had discovered it. Considering she warded it with layers of protection spells and traps that took a few minutes to undo, no one would’ve been able to penetrate through to lay any of their own.

After her door opened and nothing popped out, exploded, shrieked or stunned her, Draco deemed it safe for her to enter. Lingering in the doorway, torn between his gentlemanly upbringing and the ever-persistent need to be near her he coughed into his fist and leaned on the frame of the entrance.

“You know, I wanted to walk you back to the Gryffindor tower the night of the party…”

She pulled the map out of her vest and then flipped the vest up over her head, ever so casual with her behavior like she had been with Ron and Harry for the past three years. Draco barely silenced the strangled groan in his throat as he watched her torso shift and turn as the sweater went over her face. She certainly didn’t have those kinds of curves in second year, and they had just barely started to show in third. But they were well pronounced now. 

“Hermione.” He said tightly. “You really shouldn’t undress-even partially-in a young wizard’s presence like that.”

She shook her wild mane, freeing the vest loose of the bulk. “Oh please Draco, it’s just a vest, not like I’m going any further than that.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “Still covered, see? Not like I’m flashing my knickers for Death Eaters...” she mocked, recalling the words he’d aimed at her during the Quidditch World Cup when the Dark Mark set fire to the sky and then all hell broke loose.

“Hey now, I was trying my best to warn you without using the obvious ‘look out’ as Potter and Weasley would’ve needed. You realized the danger you were in and took off. And I’m glad for it.”

She slipped the vest onto one of her transfigured clothes hangers and placed it on the rack. “You still had an odd way of going on about it, but thank you.” She toyed with the grey fabric for a moment, wrestling with her thoughts. “You’ve really…all this time…”

He scratched the back of his neck. All he could answer with was a nod.

Awkward silence hung in the air between them.

“Would you like to come in?” she asked a second later.

“I-I don’t think I should…” he wavered.

“Oh.” He couldn’t NOT hear the disappointment in her voice. “I suppose you’re right. Propriety and all that.”

He felt hot under his collar. “I mean, a few minutes couldn’t hurt…” Might as well break all the rules, if he was going to Hell anyway, right?

“I just feel like,” she searched for the right phrase, “Like I owe you a few more minutes of time after what you went through today.”

Oh bless her soft bleeding heart, he mused. She’s gonna get herself in so much trouble if she keeps that up.

He stepped in, silently ordering himself to behave. Leaving the door open ought to help with that. She seated herself at her desk, so he took a comfy spot on her bed, poking the mattress. “What did you make this with?”

“A sponge.” She answered matter-of-factly as she pulled out sheets of parchment and unfolded the map with the incantation softly whispered to almost be kissing the graph.  
“What are you really working on?” he asked, getting to his feet and leaning over her shoulder.

“Nosy much?” she laughed. But she continued working on the magic circle she had barely started on before exhaustion overtook her. She could feel his body heat against her back and the hairs on her neck swish with his breath. All the while very aware of their proximity but keeping their hands to themselves. It didn’t take him long to figure she was doing more than memorizing the Slytherin layout.

But the soft green lighting played havoc on his eyes at night, and he eventually had to succumb to summoning something Hermione had never once heard him call for or seen him use: reading glasses.

He caught them swiftly as they flew into her room and pushed his hair back before sliding the temples along his ears until they rested perfectly on his nose. He turned around with his telltale smirk. “Like a blond Harry Potter eh?” he joked.

“H-Harry who?” she stuttered, brain freezing and exploding simultaneously at the sight of Draco Malfoy in half-moon lenses framing his gorgeous grey eyes. And that’s when she felt it. 

It struck in three places at once: her brain, her heart, and….down there.

Draco Malfoy had finally awoken that spark in her that sent wild sensations rippling through her vestal body. Sensations that only older or more experienced girls talked about in hushed giggles in the lavatory or late some evenings huddled up on any given bed in the dorm, sharing their encounters with their beaus or even other girls.

Sure, Harry was cute and the glasses brought more attention to his vibrant eyes, but he was so much like a brother that she was certain she couldn’t envision herself dancing with him at Yule even if he’d asked her to go with him.

And while Draco possessed features that came from generations of selective breeding and was a fine specimen of male genetics, there hadn’t been that “Wow” moment her girlfriends had spoken of, until now. He checked several attributes to her liking before, but now that list hardly mattered when he was standing right there with that curious look on his face and those golden wires framing his eyes.

“What?” he laughed, leaning back down to properly read her handiwork.

She jumped back. “Cute-Quit!” she cried. “I mean, quit. Looking over. My shoulder. Rude.” She sputtered in broken sentences, pushing on his chest for a little breathing room. 

She pointed to her bed. “Go sit.” She ordered.

For the love of Morgan La Faye. 

She fanned her cheek and tried to focus back on the magic circle she was formulating. Precision was absolutely necessary.

“Hermione quit doing schoolwork for five minutes and sit with me.” His voice called, slipping into her ear and traveling down her spine until it hit a now strangely sensitive area.  
Oh good God….

Despite her higher brain function, her legs obeyed and she was on her feet, crossing the few steps needed until she was finally gracing her own bed for the first time. Softer than she expected but it was an unused sponge so she didn’t have to worry about it drying into a crumbling and stiff mess. Draco was about to remove them when her hand flew up and grabbed his wrist before she could even think about why it bothered her so.

“D-don’t…” she whispered. “I like them.”

A devilish smirk crossed his lips. “Do you now?” he leaned in just a tad closer to her. “What else do you like?”

Feeling heat rise up from the junction of her thighs and all the way up her chest and wrapping around her cheeks, she couldn’t make her tongue work-at least verbally-and she was pulling on the lapels of his shirt as she leaned into him, suddenly pushing him harder than she ever had before, and he was falling upon his back, his hands instantly grabbing her waist and taking her with him.

Even the crash landing wasn’t enough to stop what had started, their lips in a tangled dance, mouths opening to suck in air and tongues accidentally touching, sending startled sparked through the both of them. Hands were running through hair, fingers clutching at soft tendrils and tickling along necks in curious exploration. The weight of her little body on his was an acceptable amount, chests pressed together, although a certain part of him began to grow uncomfortable, and she was accidentally pressing right upon it.

“Herm-” he panted in between a kiss and a gasp for air.

Her hands were now playfully clawing at his chest, a button coming undone.

“Whoa, Her-” he was cut off with another sweep of her curious soft tongue.

One hand slid across the small of her back, feeling her skin there for the first time. Electricity coursed through his veins at this new territory he was exploring. Merlin she was so soft, he could stay all night enveloped in her warmth. This was more than he’d ever dreamed of having with her, even if it had been planned for show to enrage a certain ginger.  
“Ma Belle.” He whispered in a plea. He could feel himself growing quite uncomfortably hard…down there…and this was not something a courting wizard did with his witch per rules of the standard protocol. Then again, nothing was standard about what they were doing or how they got there.

Another button came undone.

Both his hands were on her back now, under her shirt, her soft skin pliable beneath his fingertips as he splayed his fingers and dug his nails in ever so slightly. A pleasant gasp escaped from her as she arched in an all too feline manner. Blessed Merlin her body was so responsive. He was in so much trouble.

“Draco.” She purred against his throat, teeth grazing the tender skin as he felt his soul leave his body for a second. She loosened his tie and undid another button. He was completely at her mercy and knew it.

When her teeth clamped down on the baby-soft spot of his jugular his eyes rolled into the back of his head and stars danced in his mind as she claimed him in a most primal way. His nails dug in harder as he tried suppressing the hardness building in his poor loins as she hissed against his skin. 

“Mother of Merlin!” he cried, realizing this was NOT what he had intended for them to do, nor did he want it to happen here, like this. “Hermione stop!” he pleaded as his mind finally took control of his body and whipped his hands around to push her off at the shoulders.

They were both now sitting up, panting and red-faced, pupils dilated to near full blackness, trying to figure out how things had slip so quickly out of control when he grabbed her pillow and slammed it firmly into his lap and leaned over to hold it in place.

“I-I’m so sorry.” She started but he held up his other hand to halt her protests.

“No, this isn’t just on you…I teased….I saw it in your eyes.” He reached up and took the glasses off his nose and held them aloft. “Great Goblet of Fire Hermione, if all I knew it took was a simple pair of spectacles to get you going…” he trailed off into a laugh.

“I don’t know what came over me.” She hid her face behind her hands, stricken with humiliation.

“Oh, I know what it was…” he smirked. “But that’s neither here nor there. Fact of the matter is, I didn’t stop it sooner.”

She lowered her hands only enough to reveal her glossy brown eyes. “Why you?”

Trying to conjure the most erection discouraging thoughts he could, his eyes tightly shut and head turned off to the side, he explained that as the courting wizard it was his responsibility to uphold the role of being a gentleman in her company. And protecting her virtue was the upmost responsibility-whether from himself or other wizards.

“I wouldn’t have gone that far.” She flatly stated, hands down and resting on her thighs.

He dared to open an eye and met her wooden gaze. “You were…quite…amorous. I daresay it wouldn’t have taken much more to throw caution to the wayside and uh…at least…get close…”

His face has never been so red in his life, his linguistic skills so depleted, and his body waging war with itself. Seeing her hair so loosely tousled, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with that LOOK he couldn’t quite describe and necktie askew was making it difficult for him to holster his wand. He wanted to run as far and fast as he could, dive head first into the Black Lake and let the chill of the Scottish waters freeze all thoughts of desire out of his mind, just as much as he wanted to grab that damn necktie and pull her flush against him and continue discovering every curve of her body.

“I need to go…” he stated, looking around and discovering to his horror that her bedroom door had hung open the entire time. Merlin, Morgana, and Circe on a flaming stick! 

Anyone could’ve come across them and seen!

Fanning her face and loosening her necktie, she agreed. “I will need my pillow back though…” she added as she turned her head to the side. “I won’t look.”

He’d never been more grateful for female shyness until that very moment. Wishing her a good night, he shifted himself off her bed and tossed the pillow aside before dashing out without a second glance. Hermione waved her hand and sent the door shutting harsher than she intended and following through with several wards before she felt safe enough to breathe.

Today just needed to end. It had been far too emotionally charged and enlightening in more ways than one. Life as a Slytherin was something completely different than that of the Gryffindor one she had grown accustomed to and she needed all her wits about her in order to survive it.

Once she was dressed in sleepwear and plucked her pillow up she found Draco’s discarded glasses, left in his haste to spare them any further embarrassment and smiled. She placed them on her desk and eased her body into the makeshift bed. It would take some getting used to, but it was sturdy and comfortable enough and that’s all that mattered to her.  
…………………….

Draco was thanking his lucky stars that the common room had emptied by the time he sprinted through it, looking a right mess and would’ve surely invoked far too much attention that even his ego would’ve been put off by. He’d found Theo and Blaise nestled in their own beds, Theo with his wand alight and a book in his lap and Blaise humming a jaunty tune only known to his mind.

His dramatic entrance and flop into his bed drew their attention, but two roommates were better than an entire house full. He started tugging at his disheveled clothing, but not before they had noticed his shirt was well on its way to being more off than on.

“Oh dear me, I think someone just lost a fight with a lioness.” Theo teased, setting his book down with delicate grace and giving Draco his full attention.

“Oi mate, I know you were halfway round the bend today but really?” Blaise questioned, tapping his own neck in order for Draco to realize what she did was quite visible.

And against his pale skin, it was quite visible. “Ah shit.” Draco hissed, clamping a hand over the spot. “This means I’m gonna have to run to Pansy for bruise cream.”

“Can’t wait to see the one you left on her.” Theo laughed, letting his eyebrows wiggle.

“I didn’t.” the blond corrected with a small sense of pride.

Both his roommates shared a look with each other and then back at him. Draco turned his back and began undressing amidst all their questioning. He merely snapped with simple one word responses and nothing more. Hermione was not a girl to be spoken about so lightly. Especially when everything still hung so delicately on her thin olive branch of trust that he hoped was strong enough not to break.

Having given them nothing to satisfy their curiosity they eventually let up knowing nothing more was to be gained except an irate arse rather than the grumpy dragon he normally was most mornings. When his head hit the pillow he let out the deepest sigh of his life, feeling the tension of the day ebb away from him like a whooshing tidal wave peeling back from the shore.

Only one word came to mind. One he’d heard uttered from the mouths of several muggleborns and a few half-bloods: Wow.


	38. Interviews

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone wants the scoop on Gryffindor Golden Girl turned Slytherin Darling, and not just for an article.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: In the heat of an argument, Hermione does hit Draco, and hard. And he tells her to do it, to let all her aggression out, despite how he's been treated by his father, he endures a few punishing blows as penance for his years of bullying her. Don't go vilifying Hermione over this, nor making Draco a saint either, they're teenagers dealing with emotions and a bad history with each other, so there's bound to be a physical altercation at some point.

TUESDAY April 11, 1995:

“Ah, so good to see you finally join us.” Snape sneered at Professor Moody as they met in the hallway first thing in the morning. “I had begun to think that our darling students were becoming too much for you.”

“Ha!” the cantankerous old man hobbled along with a jaunty laugh. “As if these whelps had the stuff to scare me off. Annoy me to death, yes. But there are a few exceptional ones.”

“Indeed.” Snape drawled coolly. “If you’ll excuse me, I have things to tend to before breakfast.” It was then that Moody noticed a bundle of vials tucked in the black-clad arm of the Potion Master.

“Well, a few minutes won’t be the end of the world, allow me.” He said, gesturing with his arm to indicate he would open the door.

“Thank you Alastor.” Snape replied, allowing the Defense Professor to hold open the door to his classroom and follow in after him. “You’re lucky Madam Pince was able to fill in for you yesterday. I suggest the next time you plan a holiday, you do not overstay.”

“Eh, twas one day.” Moody replied with a nonchalant wave. “Though it would appear I missed some of the hullabaloo with all the owls I’ve seen.”

“Honestly Moody, only you could miss a historic event and appear nonplussed.” Snape scoffed and set his vials down by a special locked cabinet by his desk. “The Mudblood Granger was resorted from Gryffindor to Slytherin.”

The old man roared in laughter. “Oh good one!” he chortled, grabbing his belly. “Ha, had me going there! Honestly Snape I never pegged you for having a sense of humor.”

Flinging his dark hair back he delivered his most deadpan serious gaze upon the other professor. 

“You’re….fucking kidding me.” The old man’s voice changed into a high squeak for a second before he coughed and pulled out his flask for a swig.

Snape eyed the flask as he had all year, every day since Moody had been brought on, that man had never drank from anything else except that blasted thing. “Surely you must realize no one is going to poison you by now.” He grabbed the flask from the other man’s hands and brought his nose to the opening for a quick sniff before Moody snatched it back.

“Oi now! Ain’t Firewhiskey if that’s what yer thinking!” he growled, protectively clutching it. “Just me own home brew to manage the pain in this here old leg o’ mine.” He patted his famously wounded leg that limped. “Figured you oughta know that by now.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed as he turned back to his cabinet.

“Got yer own stash of Firewhiskey holed up in there do ya?” Moody laughed.

“For your information Alastor, a Potion Master simply does not stop brewing once they become a professor. There are always new discoveries ahead. These are of my own, experiments that have been in the works for years. Nothing my students ever get their hands on.”

“Got it warded up like Gringott’s tight little arsehole then?”

“Even password protected. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Snape made a little shoo motion for the other man to leave, but Moody’s “Mad Eye” was roving over the near Spartan desk and surroundings. Hardly a personal effect in place other than a nameplate designating who taught here and a simple flower pot with a small bundle of lilies next to a stack of parchment and inkwell.

“Still chasing that cure for Lycanthropy?” Moody inquired. “Wanting to cure ol’ Looney Lupin of his moonlight madness?”

Snape rankled at the teasing manner in which the DADA professor disregarded the previous teacher of his subject. Remus was a good man and deserved better than his lot in life.

“I’ve had something in mind for that.” He confessed to as much. “Not just for his sake, but all werewolves. This potion would be worth its weight in galleons.” He gestured, waving towards his private collection. The silverish liquid among the row locked behind the protected glass caught Moody’s attention he most.

“So…bout that girl…” Moody asked, back to eyeing the flowers. “You reckon she’ll last long in your House?”

“She is intelligent enough to watch her back. For the sake of avoiding sensationalized papers I’ve instructed my students to avoid her if they cannot behave accordingly. The focus of this year is the Tri-Wizard Tournament, not the placement of one student.”

“Be a shame if anything should happen.” He commented. “The blame would no doubt fall to you, wouldn’t it?”

A dark eyebrow rose slowly. “Unless proven otherwise.”

Moody nodded, taking one last look at the cabinet and the potion professor before taking his leave.  
…………………………

The first interview was for the Quibbler. A wiry thin, scruffy-faced Swedish-Brit with an unpronounceable first name arrived, all smiles and accent so thick it reminded Hermione of how Viktor Krum had approached her in the library. As Dumbledore managed with a basic understanding of the Scandinavian tongue all Hermione was able to identify the man by was his surname Gronquist.

She imagined she’d have to have a translator with her at all times if she allowed Viktor to court her, and how awkward would that be, a third person listening to the sweet endearments from one person and translating them to another in the delay time it would take? She often saw him at the Slytherin table eyeing her but she hadn’t encouraged any further encounters with him. Probably for the best now anyways, considering she was very much spoken for, and although he’d never gone out and said it she always figured a part of Draco was jealous of the fact that she’d gone to Yule with the famous Quidditch player.

She allowed Dumbledore to dominate the interview, as the language barrier was daunting enough for her, but she’d never been interviewed before and had little preparation. It amazed her that there was so much fanfare involved, with a professional makeup crew that went to town on her face and hair for a good thirty minutes to turn her into a more “presentable” version of herself.

Seething about the underhanded insult, she endured the vigorous brushing and was glad when her wild curls broke two of their combs. She was vehement about not needing makeup but allowed them to give her a smokey eye and accentuate her cupid’s bow with sharply applied crimson lip tint. The photographer gushes over her “natural beauty” and how this gives her “edge” and will make people believe she has the spunk to be Slytherin.

She’s given a snake shaped barrette to show off in her hair-all for show-and poses demurely for the camera and follows it with a wink and blows a kiss-also for show-just to win some fanboys over. She sits like a lady; legs crossed, back straight, hands nestled in her lap as if she was brought up in the upper crust of pureblood society. She knows every miniscule movement she makes is being scrutinized, every word said searched for a hidden meaning, and gives them nothing to use against her.

Dumbledore has no complaints, she’s a model student. Her grades are Outstanding, her assignment papers always filled with more than what is needed, her wandwork flawless, her incantation pronunciation among the best, and has even hosted an inter-house tutoring session to help struggling students from all houses. He firmly believes that having her introduced to Slytherin will open the doors of acceptance to future muggleborn students and begin building a bridge of unity among the rival houses. She knows the script; she’s the posterchild for this little peace campaign and nods along.

Then the big question comes. Just what made you change houses?

“Over the years here I’ve taken a more skeptical approach on things, and voicing way of thinking was not quite so accepted among the Gryffindors. I grew distant from them but still maintain several friendships, it’s just that my ability to think outside of the box-a muggle term for being unconventional-is what brought me to be accepted into Slytherin.”  
It’s not the entire truth, but none of the papers are getting that. From what they’ve heard in the wildfire of gossip, a test of loyalty had brought Ronald to be resorted and when that came up empty, she knew it was her that had had the change of heart.

Luckily, the Gronquist reporter does not inquire for deeper details. The Quibbler is not nearly as aggressive as The Daily Prophet-as she heard from Harry when he finished his interview with Skeeter. Luna told her that at the Quibbler they pride themselves on face-value honesty and do not sensationalize. It was enough to sate her nerves but she still has apprehension for The Prophet.

That day goes by in a whirl as she suddenly finds herself bombarded with wolf whistles, cat calls, and several boys trying to play to her favor by promising they were a better catch than Draco Malfoy, although many of them could barely name a fair reason why. She watched him fume and fuss and growl at approaching would-be suitors to her barely contained delight. Pansy sneaks up to her and whisks her off as her trio of bodyguards fend off more unwelcome advances. Hermione is sure several of those boys were the ones hurling insults and making crude drawings of her the day previous. A little makeup and a lot of publicity went a long way in changing some people’s views.

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt to put on a little makeup here and there.” Pansy stated, scrutinizing the artist’s work. “I gotta hand it to them; they really brought out that inner Bad Girl to the surface.”

“Is that why the entire male half of the student body is suddenly nutters? Because I look like a Bad Girl?” she asked incredulously. 

“Oh you know it.” Pansy answered without hesitation. “Boys think more with their wand if you know what I mean…” she chuckled mischievously.

Hermione groaned with the thought, but recalled how Draco had acted in quite the opposite way. He’d fought the urges and remained a gentleman and had done a wonderful job of hiding that lovebite of hers with his shirt buttoned all the way up, tie neat and square, and with his robe wrapped firmly around his shoulders.

“Sweet Circe haven’t you had these kinds of talk with your girlfriends?”

Hermione shrugged. “Never really had close girlfriends.” She answered truthfully. “The ones I can really talk intellectually are all in Ravenclaw. And then the two in Gryffindor are both out of my year and more into Quidditch but still get into girly sides of things. But listening to Lavender discuss all the things she and Ron were doing was more than enough to shut all communication off, so no.”

Pansy sighed. “Ugh. You really need a girlfriend. And it looks like I’m the prime candidate. Ok fine, we can talk girl stuff, because you need guidance. Just because you have Draco’s attention doesn’t mean you don’t have to put effort in yourself. Goodness knows what he sees in your hair and drab sense of style but no one can tell him otherwise.”

Hermione scoffed but Pansy continued. “Trust me; a girl’s best weapon is her wiles. We are the deadlier species, our makeup and dress is our lure and they are moths to the flame.”

“Pansy, if I wanted a guy that was intimidated by me and waited on me hand-and-foot I’d get a House Elf. I want to be seen as an equal and not just the mother of any future children standing over a boiling cauldron. That is not how I see myself right out of Hogwarts. I am driven to protect Magical Creatures Rights and end centuries old antiquated laws based on prejudice. I’m going to make a difference in the wizarding world and how I look doing it shouldn’t matter.”

Pansy tossed the brunette a helpless smile. “You’re right, it shouldn’t but it does. And the Ministry is practically an all-male run establishment. You are gonna need to know how to deal with the opposite sex, and that often requires a little shorter skirt and some nicely painted lips and suddenly they’re not thinking about vetoing an amendment nearly as much as they’re trying to see your knickers. You catch them off guard and they’re all yours.”

“It’s scary how much you know about all this.” Hermione said in a hushed tone as they continued to their next class.

“My parents have taught me well.” The raven haired girl proudly stated. “I’m wealthy enough that I don’t need to look for someone of Malfoy’s caliber to ensure a comfortable life, but if I’m to marry a working man then I need to be aware of the politics involved.”

“So what’s the deal with you and Neville then?”

Pansy released a sigh at the mention of Neville Longbottom. “He’s an absolute sweetheart. Treats me like a lady and not just because of my family’s vaults. Raised by his Gran, he is polite and gentlemanly. And he’s not one to boast to make himself look good either. I like that. No ego to cater to.”

Neville Longbottom with an ego? Ha! That’ll be the day!

“But I mean…what do your parents think?”

Pansy stopped for a second. “They don’t. For now. Gryffindors and Slytherins are still rivals.” She picked up the pace again. “Maybe news of your resorting might have some parents seeing differently. Or pulling their kids out and sending them elsewhere. Who knows?” She released a brittle laugh.

“That’s terrible Pansy. I wouldn’t want someone to be yanked halfway through their schooling just because their parents don’t want me to be associated with them. They’d miss all their friends and everything.”

“You’re still too soft Granger. I bet you wouldn’t be so inclined if the Greengrass sisters were some of the ones sent off to Beauxbatons.”

Hermione ruminated on that one. Ok, maybe Pansy wasn’t completely wrong but it would still be an injustice to little Astoria. She tried clearing her mind of all the troubling thoughts as she settled into Astronomy, joining her housemates on their side of the classroom. After completing the assignment-without burning anything-she grabbed some parchment and walked over to the solar and lunar cycle chart and started jotting down some notes.

“What could you possibly be up to now?” a familiar voice whispered close to her ear. She shivered when his breath tickled her skin, knowing he was purposely trying to rile her up.

Ignoring him, she continued her little assignment.

“Ma Belle, it’s rude to ignore your boyfriend.” He teased again in another hushed tone.

“It’s also rude to distract someone as they are trying to make sure they have precise measurements.”

“Are these for that magic circle you were drawing last night?”

That caught her off guard. With a little gasp she whipped her head around to face him, smacking him with the swish of her ponytail. “Serves you right for being too close.” She snapped playfully, flashing him a slightly wicked smile. With her painted lips they looked far more devilish.

“Oh you wicked witch; don’t look at me like that.”

“Then stop being so nosy and let me work. Must I suddenly tell you everything I’m up to now that we’ve snogged a few times?” her voiced carried just a little too loud and caught several ears.

Draco cleared his throat. “Do you get a kick out of being the center of attention?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re awfully jealous of something I have no control over. And don’t try to deny it; I can see it so clearly. I’d like for you to stop acting like I actively seek it out though, because that tells me you don’t trust my actions.” She heard buzzing and waved away the beetle flying around near. It was getting ridiculous now, these darn beetles in every crevice of the castle.

“Oh don’t tell me you aren’t enjoying even a little bit of it?” he huffed in response, earning him a murderous glance. “Come on, you know I’m only playing.”

“Are you? Because I’m pretty sure you’re two seconds away from bringing up an unflattering situation or insulting one of my friends in some half-arsed attempt to make me look good by comparison.”

At the drop of his jaw, she knew she hit her mark.

“You think I like all this?” she waved her hand in the air. “Ever since Skeeter started this crap in February, it’s been pecking away at me and I’m just so done.” She slouched her shoulders and lowered her voice to emphasize the weight it had taken.

Draco felt a lump wedge in his throat that he couldn’t swallow down. He was going to have to come clean, the sooner the better, although how she’d react was his major concern.

“You planning on going to the lab after dinner?” 

She nodded. “Need to make up for the past two days.” She rubbed her forehead. Switching Houses and having to adjust to the gothic darkness was throwing her off her game. Basically required to have a bodyguard with her at all times was far more draining when that bodyguard was the needy and petulant Draco Malfoy.  
………………………..

Theo, Pansy, and Blaise stood outside of Hermione’s private lab, having cast a well-rounded Muffliato to encompass the room as well as the section of hall they were standing in; securing no one else was hearing the verbal lashing Draco was enduring.

“Bloody fool.” Blaise sighed, shaking his head as he leaned against the wall with arms crossed. “He seriously underestimated her.”

“I don’t even think Lucius has torn into him like this before.” Theo said, and that was saying something, since he’d been there on occasion when Lord Malfoy went on a rampage.  
Pansy snickered. “Well, he certainly has his work cut out for him. He just had to go and pick the most stubborn, independent, strong-willed, intelligent, and magically strongest witch in the school.”

“Careful there Pans, that sounded like a compliment.” Blaise laughed.

She scoffed. “I’m not a fully-fledged member of the Hermione Granger fan club, unlike you two.” She gave them a one-over. “Gotta say though, the girl is growing on me.”

Another crash and ear piercing shriek erupted, breaking their banter. This was the third time something like that had happened and by now they were used to it. Although they would’ve given anything to see what was actually happening.

“…you’re like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde! Constantly bouncing back from being a gentleman and the biggest arsehole on Earth!”

“I told you, it was part of my cover!”

“You can’t use that pathetic excuse when it was two months AFTER we agreed to a bloody truce! You can’t use your mother’s letter to defend actions that took place before your so-called feelings were made to me!”

“But it’s the truth!”

There was a thud of something being hit and a whoosh of air followed by a weak sounding “oooph!” and a stumble.

“Where do you think she hit him this time?” Theo leaned over to Blaise.

The dark skinned wizard just shuddered.

“How…the hell…do you hit so hard?” gasped Malfoy, in what sounded like an impressed yet also pained struggle for breath.

“My parents insisted I know how to fight. Witch or not, a girl has to be able to protect herself. And you wizards rely far too much on magic for your fighting. You’re stronger than me by design but not more fit-which is why you got so winded climbing the Gryffindor tower.” She explained ever so casually, like she was reciting an answer for a professor. “If you did more than just fly a bloody broom you’d be in top shape.”

“Well stop already, I said I was sorry!” he snapped, his shoes scraping on the floor as he got to his feet.

“Yeah, and that’s just how it’s gonna go innit? You act all sweet, then you do something stupid, follow it with an ‘I’m sorry’ and a gift until the next time…it’s no different from when I was with Ron!”

“Oh she just did not…” Pansy gasped.

“Don’t you dare compare me to the ginger tosser with no class.” Draco growled. “I at least have the dignity to come forward about this rather than have you find out by Skeeter herself. I am in no way like him.”

“Oh really?” she snapped. “Why? Because of what? A prat is still a prat no matter how big their vault is.”

“Are we really coming back to that? I thought we established that my wealth had no bearings on your feelings towards me.”

“They don’t!” she shrieked. “I couldn’t give two shits about your damn gold! But having it makes you feel like you have an edge over everyone else and you act like feelings can be bought with a nice gift, and that Ron’s lack of apologetic tokens somehow ups the scale for you. I’d rather have nothing than someone thinking they can lavish me with an expensive gift to placate the wrong they’ve caused.”

They heard her sniffle. It was only a matter of time before Draco’s resolve would crumble at the foot of a crying girl.

“Sweet Salazar Hermione, I didn’t mean as a bribe!” he defended hotly with what sounded a fist slamming against a wooden surface. “And beg my fucking pardon when I offer to try to make it up to you in the way I was raised to. You should know that my family never accepts anything other than top tier. Just how in the bloody hell am I supposed to cater to lower-class tastes when I know nothing of them?”

A sharp resounding flesh-against-flesh slap echoed with the rattling silence that followed. 

The trio gasped, they could practically feel it themselves and for a moment shared a look of alarm. Who had hit who this time? Do they rush in and break it up?

Hermione burst into loud sobs, muffled by hands that were obviously covering her mouth but doing little to hide the sound. Several seconds of this continued on until she broke the silence.

“I hate you!”

“If hitting me makes you feel better, then do it.” His voice sounded so defeated. “I owe you at least that. For every name, every taunt, every stupid thing.”

A strangled cry escaped her as a heavy thump landed on something solid, followed by a grunt. Another and another, hits to his chest, upper arms, again to his gut. He stood there and took it, never raising a hand to defend himself, to push her away, or to dodge.

“Why aren’t you fighting back?” Another slap to his cheek.

He didn’t answer. But he couldn’t look at her either. His eyes focused on the table of their plants, the project that had brought them together. The opposites in nature that somehow gravitated towards each despite everything about their biology should’ve kept them apart. It might’ve just been two plants to anyone else, but him, it was their botanical reflection.

She’d stopped her physical onslaught, exhausted by exertion and emotional upheaval and was resting her forehead against the chest she had just abused. Her shoulders were hunched, hair bouncing with every sob as she broke down. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Draco. I shouldn’t have hit you. I shouldn’t…”

Theo and Pansy glanced at each other. They knew something far more serious must’ve occurred if Draco was willing to endure another beating-especially against someone he could easily overpower.

Blaise was about to say something when Theo clamped a hand over his mouth. It was far too quiet in the lab, and any whispers by their eavesdropping company would be heard.  
“I deserve it. I know I’ve hurt you more times than I can count.” His voice was soft, subdued and sorrowful. “But I’ve never lied to you. About how I’ve felt, that is.”

“It’s so hard to believe that. You’re too good at hurting me. You always have been.”

“I know Ma Belle.” He whispered back. “I know. And I can’t promise that I won’t have to do it again.”

A sob escaped before she could conceal it.

“It’s always been in order to protect you. From everyone, including myself.”

She sniffled. “It’s not fair.”

Pansy felt her eyes water up.

“I want to be with you, like any normal wizard should be. Like Cedric is with Cho. Despite their different houses, no one bats an eye at them together. But you and me? Death threats. Lies. Secrets…”

“Is it even worth it?” she asked. “I wouldn’t blame you-”

“Hermione, love, you are worth setting the world on fire for. And I’m fairly certain I’m already halfway there.” He cupped her chin and brought her face up to meet his. She’d finally seen the damage she inflicted on him and scrunched her face up more. “Even if you push me away, I’m still going to continue burning everything around me, just to make sure you’re safe.”

“Wow, that smooth fucker.” Blaise whispered, hand on his chest. “Hell, I’d fall for his arse too.”

“Obviously his father has done or said something, there’s no way he’d go this far otherwise.” Theo stated sternly, arms crossed as he considered the Death Eater-like threats Lucius and his own father would make against the girl.

“If you’re going to burn everything around you, then at least let hold the bucket of water.” She replied.  
……………………………..

Pansy knew what was coming next. She managed to pull both the boys away before the distinct sounds of snogging could be heard. Despite their protests, she wrangled them down the hall and sent them packing towards the Slytherin dorms. They weren’t supposed to overhear that impassioned argument and she’d be damned if Draco found out they listened in on the making up part.

She’d give it a few minutes before rounding back to “remind them it’s almost curfew.”  
……………………………..

Draco held Hermione tight within his grasp, afraid to let her go for even a second, as if contact broken meant the end of it all. She’d all but ended everything between them and he knew it was a well-deserved threat, for everything he’d allowed to happen, every word that had been printed, and every hardship the articles had brought unto her. He’d said sorry so many times it started to lose meaning, as she had brought up time and time again when another piece of the past was dredged up. 

It had been a circle of insults, shouted apologizes, accusations, misunderstandings, ill-timed plans, wrongdoings numbered, more apologizes, and tears, as well as the occasional fist against a certain Slytherin. He was prepared for some theatrics, but nothing like the torrent she unleashed upon him, letting him know just thin that olive branch of trust had been all along.

He’d damn near had it snapped in two and thrown into a fire.

But the one thing he couldn’t do was promise it would never happen again. Only his father believed she was being controlled by Snape and was his plaything at his disposal. To everyone else, they were merely friendly and even that had set off declarations of bodily harm. It was such a terrible line to walk, of keeping her at arms’ length while having to constantly be on the lookout for potential dangers.

Yesterday when she’d gone “missing” he’d naturally assumed she took refuge in the library, or over by the pond. When she was at neither then the worry started prickling the back of his neck. She just didn’t skip class. And when it was apparent that none of her Gryffindor friends knew her location, then the panic started to eat at him. Endless scenarios permeated his brain of finding her remains strung up like some gory trophy, hog-tied and thrown into a closet to suffocate against her own necktie shoved in her mouth, or just finding her laying sprawled out having been Avada’d with no chance of defending…

He’d taken every punch, every slap, and every hit because they came from her. Her hands, her body, her living breathing body that was infuriated but alive. He’d never have forgiven himself otherwise. Let her break his bones if it meant her happiness, until she was satisfied that he’d felt even a portion of the pain he’d brought into her life. He deserved it. 

He wasn’t sure why he was willing to endure such torment. From her. For her.  
………………………..

Pansy approached the lab door with great apprehension. She wasn’t sure what to expect and tried playing it cool. A few quick knocks and the door swung open wordlessly. It happened so fast she took a step back at first but gathered herself quickly and peered in.

Draco and Hermione were just standing in the middle of the disheveled room, broken glass and torn books littering the floor, along with just the tiniest drops of blood that she noticed came from Draco’s busted lip. He looks like he’d been trampled by a herd of hippogriffs while Hermione was a frizzed and frazzled mess but unharmed.

“Uh…curfew…” she managed to choke out, clearly unprepared and unsettled by the scene. “Hermione…come on…I’ll take you back to the dorm.”

Hermione turned away from Draco instantly, was making her first step when he grabbed her hand in a silent plea. She only turned her head to him and squeezed his hand in return before she let it go and continued walking out of the room without a second glance at anything behind.

Obviously, someone else was stuck with clean up duty.

She pressed past Pansy without a word or hesitation, leaving the raven haired witch to scramble after her to catch up. She walked in awkward silence alongside the former Gryffindor, hoping she’d open up on her own about what had transpired but had to applaud her resolve for not so much as a wistful sigh or depressed sniff.

“I’m going to take a bath.” Hermione told her as they approached the entrance. “I suppose that means you’ll have to play bodyguard. Is twenty minutes too long?”

“Is that in total or just for your hair?”

Hermione let out a snorting laugh as she led the way to her dorm. “Normally I’d reply with something clever but I have to admit, that was one was good.” In all truth, Hermione rotated her bathing routine with two nights for body and one for hair every week to save time and care. With hair comparable to Devil’s Snare the less time dedicated to washing, rinsing, drying, brushing, and whatevering else it took was hours off her life she could put towards her academics.

Hermione dipped into the hot water and nearly went under, the heat peeling away tidbits of stress like the dead skin she washed away with the cloth. She had even thought to try Occluding until Pansy spoke up.

“You hit him.” It wasn’t an accusation, it wasn’t filled with malice. In fact, it was quite the opposite. One could even describe it as a question.

“He said to.” Hermione replied. “Oddly enough, it didn’t make me feel any better.”

Pansy was on edge. Had Draco told her of how his father treated him? How much did she know? “Then why did you?”

Hermione shrugged, lathering up her legs. “Because the first time I ever hit him, it had been so satisfying. I thought it would be again…but things are different this year.”

“I’d say.” The Slytherin agreed quite quickly. “You should know though…that’s not how to deal with him. Just…don’t do it anymore.”

Nibbling her lip in thought, she waited for more. It appeared that was all the pearls of wisdom she was going to be given tonight. 

“By the way Granger, what shampoo do you use?” Pansy piped up, remembering that Draco had a thing about smelling her hair when they were fake dating. She’d overheard him talk about it with Theo, how he couldn’t figure out what it was and how mad it drove him.

“It’s a brand called Head & Shoulders.” She continued lathering and rinsing. “You can go and tell Draco but it’s nothing special. You can find it in any given Muggle general shop.”

Mouth popping open for a second, Pansy found herself without a witty comeback as the brunette witch finished and stepped out of the tub, wrapping the towel around herself and quickly brandishing her wand in hand. She was certainly taking the warning to heart. Not that she wanted to, she escorted Granger all the way back to her dorm because there would be no amount of groveling she could do if something happened in the few minutes it would take between destinations.

All it takes is a second and the fortitude to do it. Point. Incant. Instant death.

“I’ll see if Tracy and Millie are willing to rotate bodyguard duties. Don’t get your hopes up though, might have to bribe them with something.”

“I’m not doing anyone’s bloody schoolwork for them.” Hermione vehemently stated for the record, making it abundantly clear that that’s all her friendship with certain Gryffindors amounted to.

“We’ll figure out something.” Pansy replied in a softer tone. Not like she needed this girls’ wrath aimed at her. “Get some beauty sleep, you interview with Skeeter tomorrow.”  
Hermione noticed her bag-which she had firmly abandoned back in the lab-was hanging by the strap on her desk chair with a note. A red note. 

“Morgana’s blessed tits Granger, did you forget to ward your room before heading off to the bath?” Pansy sighed. She leaned in just a bit to get a better look. “It’s just a Howler. I’d set the silencing charm this time.” She said before exiting, leaving Hermione bright pink with the knowledge that her argument with Draco had been overheard.

She shut the door and warded it tight, flung the towel off and slipped into her nightgown before handling the touch-sensitive note. Once it made contact with the recipient there was only a few seconds of time before the envelope opened itself and the voice of its sender would ring loud and clear, all quite like the muggle voicemail service. Most of the time, Howlers were sent in a screaming rage, but such was not the case with this letter.

She listens to the “voicemail” left by a contrite Draco with a little smile on her face. The boy certainly has a way with words, both eloquent as well as spiteful. These words are meant just for her and her alone. She longs for the day when he can speak so freely like this in public with her. Then everyone would know there is so much more to Draco Malfoy than the brute he tries to convince everyone he is.

The Howler ends by shredding itself, then she further destroys with a simple incendiary spell since she has no rubbish bin, and makes a mental note to Engorgio the thimble in her craft box such a use as she sits at her desk and continues on her magic circle. 

With the number of windows, angles of their placement to the rise and fall of the sun and tracking the trajectory of the moon, she concludes that her little spell bring significant lighting to the common room and dorms as if their rooms were surface level. It’s just a little sunlight, right? What’s the harm in brightening this dreary place up a bit?

Using the Marauders’ Map and taking the magic circle with her, she enters the common room, where the tallest windows are and takes a breath to steady her nerves. She’s done the math, she’s checked her work thrice over, she knows she has the magic within her to do this and tells herself that this is as much her House as anyone else. With that little boost to her confidence, she lifts her wand and draws the intricate circle in the air, the tip of her wand sizzling like the lit end of a cigarette, pouring her magic into each rune, each symbol, scribing out the formula as if she were at a blackboard.

She then taps every single window indicated on the Map, in each bedroom, in the hallways, in the Potions lab as well as other classrooms left abandoned that could be put to use if they weren’t bathed in perpetual darkness. It’s the largest equation she’s ever done; she can feel the magic pulling from her very core and sweat beading her forehead as she continues striving along. She can’t stop until she’s got the number locked in to match what has been inscribed in the circle graph.

Thankfully today had not been a magically challenging day, what with mostly Herbology, History, Arthimacy, and Potions for her classes; she has more in reserve, but only marginally so. It still is enough; she can feel the circle complete and set into the stone floor with a dying ember glow as faint streams trail off to each window, marking above with a rune to signify they have matched to the one drawn on her parchment.

Releasing a hefty sigh, Hermione nearly sinks to the floor in exhaustion, her knees shaking and chest tight. Crookshanks comes up to her, nuzzling against her legs as a reminder to not linger in the common room alone. Nodding along to the unspoken reminder, she gathers the map, whispers “Mischief Managed.” with a slight feral smile.

Mischief indeed.  
………………….


	39. Sunlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione, you hold the sun in one hand and the moon in the other.

“Hermione,” Draco’s voice softly called to her. “I can’t apologize enough. I know. You’re probably already fed up of the words ‘I’m sorry’ so I’ll refrain from using them. I know you’re still upset, I could tell when you left your bag behind. I’m just glad you didn’t destroy the lab, you know I want to work with you on this project right?” he lets out a weak chuckle, “Please know that you are the sun in my sky, your light outshines the stars. There’s this quote I know, and it goes: There is no greater power than that of the sun, the moon, and a woman who knows her worth, by Nicole Lyons. I think that applies quite aptly to you.” He breathes out a smirk that she knows all too well. “Have a goodnight princess. Sweet dreams.”

The words of the Howler replay over in her mind once she flops onto her bed, exhausted from her spell and the argument and the interview and the unwanted attention garnered by a little makeup. It’s enough to lock away and Occlude if she had the energy but good old natural exhaustion is stronger and she slumbers easily despite it all.  
……………………………….

WEDNESDAY April 12, 1995

Screams. Shouts. Colorful explicatives. Feet pounding against stone flooring.

That is how the Slytherin dorm awakens on this particular morning, with children of all ages scurrying in fear and bewilderment and outright rage to the beams of sunlight pouring into their rooms, filling every space with the brightest light of the morning sun.

Hermione rolls over, behind her eyelids she can tell the spell worked but the auditory response is far more effective. She chuckles to herself as she hears layers of voices in all octaves going on about the bloody sunlight and wondering how it happened. It isn’t long though, and she is surprised it even comes like it does, but there is a knock on her bedroom door with a soft voice inquiry if she is awake.

Funny. She expected splinter inducing pounding and bellowing, not this.

Still could be a trap, she reminds herself as she yawns and rubs her eyes. Ah, glorious sunlight, highly effective to waking the body up. She stretches and takes her time before setting her feet to the floor. Crookshanks paws at her door as she grabs her wand and asks those on the other side to identify themselves.

“It’s me, Pansy…and Daphne…” she adds a beat later.

Hermione stops short. That certainly doesn’t sound good, but she’s armed, so she opens the door. Sure enough, it’s just the two of them, still in nightgowns and messy hair, eyes squinting against the light. “Can you come to the common room for a moment?” Pansy asks somewhat nervously.

“I’m sure if anyone here can explain what’s going on, it would be you.” The crossed-arm blonde snidely remarks. It’s a shame really, Hermione thinks, that such outer beauty is wasted on someone as bitter as her.

She follows them into the common room, where sure enough, their Head of House has been roused from his sleep, whether by screams or sunlight for the first time in his life is up for debate. He wears his night clothes as well, along with a dour look.

Just peachy.

“Miss Granger,” he drawls as if she has strolled in late to class. “Surely you have an inkling as to this miracle bestowed upon us.” He gestures with a lazy flick of his wrist.

“Oh this?” she intones with every ounce of mock innocence she can muster, “It’s a nice touch isn’t it? Really livens the place. Really good for the eyes you know-”

“Do cut the bullshit.” He proclaims. He is no doubt, definitely NOT a morning person. “What did you do?”

She looks around, the common room is filled with grumpy and astonished Slytherins of all ages, mainly the older half who are touching the windows and quietly discussing among themselves how such a spell was possible.

“Isn’t it obvious Professor? I counted every window down here, gathered their measurements, matched their positions in accordance to the path of the sun so each window will have an accurate amount of light passing through as the day goes so it follows the natural cycle. I also charted the moon’s trajectory so moonlight will flow through in the evening and no one will have to suffer through that awful green lighting.”

Mouths gaped open.

“You did this alone?” he asked. She nodded firmly. “You realize that is over thirty windows…”

She nodded. “Thirty-six in fact.” She corrected. “I’ve also included the Potion’s Lab and several other rooms down here. You said so yourself that the lighting has always been awful in there. And everyone is suffering from various forms of light sensitivity due to it.”

Several students fidgeted under that statement. It was a well-kept secret that the majority of Slytherins required reading glasses or used extra lanterns or cast spells to enlarge the print of the books they read.

“You’ve only been down here for two days…” Millicent said, incredulous at the very fact.

Hermione shrugged. “I noticed it right away when it was so hard for me to wake up the first morning. And that Slytherin classes start later, and you always arrive last to the Great Hall. Simple really.” she concluded.

“Well if it’s so simple then switch it off!” Marcus Flint hollered. “My god, who fucking invited you to change up everything?”

“It’s too bright down here.” Gregory sneered. Crabbe nodded with a growl.

“It’s no brighter than it is outside. This is what it would look like if we weren’t under the lake.”

“Professor! You’ve got to do something about this! She can’t be casting spells like that!” his seventh year Prefect proclaimed loudly, followed by several murmurs of agreement.  
Snape looked around the common room. Bathed in natural light, one could actually see the details long obscured by darkness that he himself as a student had never noticed.

“Miss Granger, can you undo it?”

She shook her head. “Not currently, it really took a lot of power and I pushed myself. And quite frankly, I don’t feel like undoing all that work, this is as much my place now as theirs.”

“The hell it is!” Daphne screamed at her.

And then all hell broke loose around Snape as the blonde pounced on the brunette with a screech and claws bared, but had misjudged the expertise in which Hermione Granger had been endowed with physical combat. Hermione grabbed the girls’ wrists and rolled onto her back with a foot to Daphne’s gut and tossed her over her head, then flipped back to her feet to be met with another would-be assailant. Realizing that she stood a better chance going one-on-one a group bum rushed her, plowing aside Snape and her bodyguard detail.

Fists flew. Feet kicked. Hair was pulled. Faces slapped. Bodies flying and thrashing as the entire common room became a mosh pit of teenage testosterone and wizardly pride. Friends faced off against each other. Draco trying to survive the crushing weight of Vincent Crabbe as the heftier boy plowed into him. Theodore taking a punch to the face from Flint as Gregory tried body slamming Blaise into the wall. Spells were momentarily forgotten as aggression reigned supreme until Snape finally threw one brazen teenager off himself and started stupefying students.

“Someone contact the Headmaster, NOW.” He ordered to those still standing, watching as three students fell over themselves in their panicked rush through the exit to do as they were told. To everyone remaining he ordered for them to get dressed as he grabbed Hermione by the arm and all but dragged her down the hall and into the private library.  
He slammed the door behind and silenced it in one flick of his wand and then peered down at her slightly bruised face. “Do you have a death wish young lady?” he bellowed, watching her eyes widen at the volume so rarely used by his vocal chords. “Announcing to a room full of bloodthirsty fucks that would rather see you dead that you have near depleted your magical core was the stupidest thing I have ever seen you do. And what do you think would’ve happened had I not been there when you were ambushed? Do you think they really care about detention and point deduction in comparison to the praise they’d more than likely receive for being the one to remove you from this House? Think Hermione!”

Shell-shocked, she stood there as Snape verbally lashed her.

“Merciful Merlin it’s a good thing you know how to throw a bloody punch and that you’re not afraid to do so but that will not save you here. You are to stick to one of your little bodyguards at all times, keep your wand at the ready and have your eyes open when you are here. You chose to be a Slytherin, well, here you are. Having fun yet?”

She opened her mouth but said nothing.

“Off to a great start I must say. Oh yes, Salazar would be most proud to see FUCKING SUNLIGHT in his underwater lair because some pampered Gryffindor up and decided a little sprucing was needed!” he tossed his hands up in the air. “Do you thrive on making my life more difficult than it already is?”

Before she could dignify that with an answer, there was a knock at the door and then it swung open. Dumbledore stood poised as if he’d been invited to tea and was waiting to be seated.

“Morning.” He smiled in his weirdly chipper tone which even had Hermione groaning inside. Just what did this man do on the daily to remain so aloof about the near constant chaos that his school was in? “Love what you’ve done with the place. Though I’m sure tossed furniture and stupefied students is not a permanent look we’re going for?”

“Headmaster, we have several students with a blatant disregard for proper decorum among themselves as well as in my presence. See to it that Filch gives them the most grueling punishment he can think of, I had no less than three believe they could actually overthrow me in their pursuit of Miss Granger’s life.”

“Oh that’s quite serious.” Dumbledore stated as if he were taking about a tests’ answers being leaked. “Are we not against suspension for such transgressions?”

“So close to the end of the year? They might consider that an extended vacation. Have them clean toilets; scrape up hippogriff shit, whatever Hagrid and Filch can plot. I have enough of this one on my hands to worry about.”

“Quite an impressive display of complex magic Miss Granger.” The old man kindly praised. Right now, Hermione didn’t feel like preening and relishing in the usual endorphin rush of such compliments. “Though perhaps, a little forewarning might have sufficed.”

“Hardly.” She scoffed, dejected. “Ungrateful louts don’t even bother with the hard work and proper calculations I did. They’re just pissy because they can’t sleep in.”

“How’s your wrist?”

Confused by the question she furrowed her brows at the old man and then looked at her right hand. She hadn’t even noticed with the adrenaline still coursing through her veins, but was fairly certain she’d broken it in the fight.

“Well shit.” She muttered in surprise. 

“I do believe a change of clothes is necessary before you head off to see Madam Pomfrey. Take a sick day; you’ll need to freshen up for your interviews today.”

“Sure…” she nodded. Who was she to argue with the Headmaster if he was personally ordering her to do so? Snape certainly had no objections. Just as long as she was out of his greasy black hair he seemed less irritable than usual. She could live with that. She escaped the tension filled room and headed just the short distance down the hall to her own little room to dress when the pain in her wrist started making itself known.

Wondering just how she was supposed to button up her shirt-and not wandlessly for her magic hadn’t yet regained full strength-she remembered Dumbledore’s instruction to take a sick day, hence she could wear her casual clothing. Relishing in the unexpected freedom, she grabbed a band shirt. One of her favorite groups: Oasis and a pair of snap button jeans. 

With a scrunchie slid up on her left wrist, her feet in a pair of vans, and her wand holstered in the standard style leather add-on to her belt loop she felt quite liberated in not having to carry her bag today-almost naked without it-and nearly ran into a wall of bodies the moment she opened her door.

“Ah, her majesty deigns to grace us with her presence, at long last.” Blaise announced with an overly dramatic bow and wrist flick. It never ceased to amuse her how dramatic Slytherins were. They really all should be in a Drama Class. Then again, their egos would have them all fighting for the lead role or have them being wallflowers.

“Yes, I have arrived.” She played along with a haughty voice. “Rise my good knight.” She gestured nobly.

Draco was already bruised from her own handiwork the evening previous, but Theo and Blaise now sported their own set to match. She wasn’t even sure of her own self, but various parts were starting to ache. Tracey looked a little worse for wear. Pansy didn’t sport any marks but from what she’d heard in the ruckus, she’d been screaming Irish explicatives and growling fiercely at someone.

They were quite the ragtag scuffed up hellions everyone probably imagined when someone said ‘group of Slytherins’. She smiled at them warmly as if they all had been friends for years and started laughing.

“Oh that’s it, she’s gone mad.” Theo stated. “Someone fetch the straight jacket.”

“Rebelling against dress code?” Tracey looked her up and down. “Must’ve missed the notice on a free dress day.”

“Dumbledore told me to take a sick day. Get my wrist fixed and do the interviews.”

“Wrist?” Draco said, taking her hands. Sure enough, the right one was swollen and discolored and really starting to hurt. All he did was sigh and then brazenly lean in, pressing his forehead against her own.

“Uhhh.” She groaned with a flush creeping up her cheeks.

“It’s alright…they know…” he answered. He closed his eyes and took the moment with her, the other four just finding their fingernails more fascinating for those few seconds.  
How much “they knew” was debatable but if no one was making gagging noises or teasing them in some other manner, then she was going to take it.

“Let’s see you off to the infirmary.” He said, “Because I sure hope you don’t expect me to be spoon feeding you.”

She scoffed. “I have another hand, or have you forgotten about that one? I need food first, then the Medi-Witch.”

“As you wish.” He took point and the rest all fell around her as before. It was comforting, even more so now knowing that they’d all been involved in the morning brawl.

They made their grand entrance in the Great Hall, drawing in quite a bit off attention as somehow the grapevine had already gotten wind of the morning “activity” and there was bustling and hushed whispers upon their arrival. She couldn’t help but shoot a glance at her former table and saw their jaws unhinge. Were they really so surprised Slytherins could duke it out? Sure, Theo had a black eye and Blaise had some slight coloring on his perfectly sculpted high cheekbones and herself…well, maybe that’s why they were staring.

It didn’t help that she was actively holding her wrist in a certain way to avoid using it. In no time, a note was flying from Gryffindor towards Slytherin with Draco snatching it and tearing it open, regardless of whom it was addressed to. A moment later he pulled out a quill, jotted down a response and folded it into a bird, then enchanted it to fly back to Harry. Harry shared the note with Ginny-who would in due time inform the twins-and then nodded before turning back to continue his meal.

Hermione had to wonder if Draco and Harry getting along was a dream come true or something to be wary of. She never expected her truce with him over Christmas to amount to so much, but nonetheless she was grateful. Despite his proclamation of not spoon-feeding her, Draco did assist in cutting her sausage links and pushed her plate back towards her without meeting her eye.

Suddenly, adorable and bouncy little Colin Creevy bounded up, eyes bright and star struck as usual, wanting a picture of her and “the gang” as he dubbed them. Before she could spare a thought to look at either side of her companions the guys squeezed in tighter and the girls squished against her and they all gave their best bad attitude face like they were in a band.

“Oh this is great!” he cried. “So punk!” he ran off to join Angelina and reveled in the moment with her. She freelanced for the school paper and often shared her candid shots. She had plenty of their mixed company and figured it would do well for an end of year piece to reflect on the significant changes they’d like to remember most. It certainly was her top memory she’d hold onto.

“Guys, what was that all about?”

“You could use some bad girl reputation to go along with that arsekicking you served to the Weasel.” Pansy answered matter-of-factly. “People will see you more than just the snobbish bookworm. This will earn you some respect.”

After eating the entourage accompanied her to the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey was about to jump into lecture mode at the sight of six Slytherins in all manner of bruised forms but eyed her most frequent patient with scrutiny as she tended to the wrist. “And just what antics have we been up to on this fine morning?”

“I didn’t start it-”

“You never do. And yet…”

Hermione bit her cheek. Her passive aggressive approach to things was starting to evoke a lot of violent responses as of late, perhaps it would be best if she just did start cracking skulls rather than settle for diplomacy. Words only went so far in the face of conflict.

“I trust you’ll not antagonize anyone else while this heals. Considering this is your wand hand, and your magic is still low, you are in a vulnerable state.” She looked back at the cluster of snakes aligning the wall patiently. “I take it one of them is to accompany you for the day?”

She nodded as Poppy wrapped her wrist. The Skele-grow would take the remainder of the day to fuse the bones back together and the pain potion diminished the obvious. As long as nothing else happened, fingers crossed. Once she was discharged she was led to Professor McGonagall’s office. The Head of Gryffindor dismissed them, leaving just the two in a somewhat tense setting.

“It is good to see you have made some…friends.” The old Scottish matriarch stated rather stiffly.

Hermione straightened in her chair. She recognized that tone, and it was hardly ever aimed in her direction. Was McGonagall holding a grudge against her now?

“I am surprised at just who you’ve managed to charm into your good graces, after all Miss Parkinson and yourself have had just as much of a feud as Malfoy and Potter. Then again, you’ve always had an air about you. Slytherins are prone to be attracted to power, whether they recognize it or not.”

Attracted to power?

Draco’s words replayed in her head: “You’re brilliant and you own the space you take up the moment you enter a room. Everyone notices, even if they don’t look. Your energy pulls at us, demands adoration.”  
. . . . . . .  
“I don’t understand it either. You infuriate me. You and your insistent need to be correct, you always have the answer, don’t you?”  
. . . . . . . .  
“Because I’ve been a dick every day of school, following some half-arsed belief that I’ve literally seen destroyed in front of my eyes. And yes, maybe I was resentful; maybe for a while I was angry that you could do practically every little thing like you’d been fucking born for it. Parading these halls like a queen. Showing up purebloods left and right. It drove me crazy.”  
. . . . . . . .  
“By the time I realized I wanted your attention, the only way I could get it was insulting you, mocking you, trying to tear you down just so you’d acknowledge me Granger. I-I couldn’t make you my friend…so I made you my enemy.”  
. . . . . . . . 

Her eyes widened at the dawning of this revelation. All this time, ever since the beginning of school, he’d been drawn in by her power, her ability, and he didn’t know why at first because he was raised to despise someone like her on sight. With each month, each semester her strength only grew, her magic brilliant and surpassing expectations, only fueling the ire within him until something changed from ire to desire. It suddenly made so much sense, why hadn’t she seen it earlier?

“Miss Granger?”

“Oh I’m sorry!” she popped up with her immediate apology. “I just realized something, something that had been right in front of my face all along.” Her cheeks flushed brightly, for hadn’t she also been aware of him all these years as well? Aside from the bullying, his magic was exceptional from strong genetics and private tutoring before heading off to Hogwarts. He was the epitome of pureblood perfection, and she was the muggleborn underdog giving him a run for his galleons in nearly every subject.

They’d been dancing a tango of wills, both of them as stubborn as the other, fighting for dominance with the flash of a red cape and scuff of a hoof.

“If you’re quite collected now, you should prepare for your interview with Skeeter.”

“I’m going like this. I’m not dolling up for that trollop and her patronizing looks. I could show up in a thousand galleon suit and she’d still find fault with it. So she gets me like I am and nothing more.”

A ghost of a smile crested upon Minerva McGonagall’s lips. 

“Then shall we?” she suggested, taking to her feet. “I thought a less distracting environment would be best, so we’re taking this outside.” She turned to her favored former student. “I hear it is quite the beautiful morning.”

Something about that last sentence caused Hermione’s ear to perk up. Ah ha, that good old subterfuge. “Depends on who you ask as to their definition on beautiful.” She laughed, “But it was definitely a morning they won’t soon forget.”  
………………………

Rita Skeeter had previously been banned from the Hogwarts grounds by Albus Dumbledore after the first Tri-Wizard challenge and the article she had written. Ever since, she’d only been having clandestine meetings with certain Slytherin students at Hogsmeade for juicy scoops that still kept her name circulating in the papers.

She thought that Harry Potter was the big fish that would propel her career, but now that all changed with the surprise of a lifetime that was Hermione Granger. She had sworn promise after promise to not embellish the truth and stick strictly to the subject at hand, with a list of pre-set questions she was to adhere to or she’d face worse than being removed off the grounds again.

Adjusting her wickedly sharp cat-eye glasses and trying to settle on the uncomfortable stool that had been offered, she scrunched her nose up at the scent of fresh dung being administered to a batch of fertilizer Pomona Sprout was stirring, while humming a happy little jaunt as if she were in a bloody kitchen rather than a dirt-filled greenhouse. And why here of all places? Away from the castle and any potential eavesdroppers that might be willing to throw her a bone. They were certainly keeping her on a tight leash. She’d just have to make do.

Minerva McGonagall entered in a majestic flourish of emerald green robes and tight bun secured on her head, pinned in placed after removing her pointed hat and greeted the shorter and plump bodied Herbology professor with the cordial grace one would with a beloved sibling. Only then did she turn and acknowledge the journalist with a twinge of her sharp nose.

“Rita….” She pleasantly drawled. “I’d say it’s a pleasure to see you again but I do pride myself on my honesty.”

Pomona giggled like a schoolgirl overhearing gossip and went back to mixing her horrid smelling concoction.

Rita sucked on her teeth as she refrained from a snarky remark that would surely send her packing. “Well, honesty is such a blessed virtue in this day. If only more people held onto such old-fashioned values.” She purred with thinly veiled retribution.

“Do mind yourself of where you are and how fast I can have you removed.” The Gryffindor warned before waving her hand for Hermione to enter. Skeeter had expected the prim and proper look she’d presented in the Quibbler, instead she was faced with a wild-haired tomboy wearing Muggle fashion and a bandaged wrist, exuding quite a bitch aura if she had to say.

She was not impressed with whatever they were going for with this little act. Nonetheless, Hermione sauntered in as if she owned the glass structure and took a seat upon a nearby stool, giving the journalist a disapproving once-over. Hermione wasn’t taken in with what she assumed was a high end (or knock-off) tailored suit of shimmery topaz adorned with a butterfly motif. Tension crackled between the two before Pomona cleared her throat.

“Now ladies, I do expect civil manners in my greenhouse. Anyone for tea?” she asked in a chipper tone, like a grandmother hosting a Sunday brunch.

Skeeter rankled at the thought of having that dingy, grubby witch serve her anything and eyed the biscuits with as much suspicion as Mad Eye Moody. For the sake of civility though, she accepted the cup and pretended a sip.

“How is it?” Madam Sprout inquired.

“Hot.” Skeeter snipped, setting the cup down and turning to face the teenager. “So, darling, before we begin, may I dare ask what happened this morning? You look a sight!”

Hermione smiled, a small but recognizable feral glint in her eye as one canine was exposed when her lips parted. “Why Skeeter, I thought you’d never ask.”  
………………………..


	40. Muse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A verbal showdown begins between the journalist and the subject of her article. It is a sight McGonagall will not soon forget. And talents of certain Hogwarts are revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Easter Egg in here for anyone who is a fan of Miraculous Ladybug!

Hermione took great pride in explaining the very complex magical circle and the measurements she took to ensure in all factors that sunlight was finally able to penetrate the darkness of the subterranean quarters of the mighty castle. However Rita was good at looking catty and poised there was no hiding the few seconds in which her mask slipped and she was positively impressed and terrified at the same time. Acting as if she hadn’t seen a thing, Hermione continued on with the reactions of the Slytherin occupants and how a mighty brawl broke out-with Professor Snape caught up in the middle of the fray-and somehow in the mix she’d broken her wrist, probably against somebody’s nose.

“And are you prone to fisticuffs?” Rita tagged that alongside her original inquiry when Minerva shot her a warning glare.

“Only in defense of myself and or others.” Hermione answered with a knowing look that told the journalist she was all too aware of her knowledge of her punching Draco last year. “I’m quite…protective.”

“Stick to your script Skeeter.” MCGonagall admonished when Rita wanted to chime in with a follow up.

Nodding in compliance, the blonde fluffed her curly bob and eyed the teen. “Well then, I suppose the number one question is how did you come about becoming a Slytherin? After all, you’ve made yourself known as being the Brightest Witch of her Age, and are often referred to as the Gryffindor Princess.”

Hermione rankled her nose at the former nickname. “I’m not a girl that does things by the book. The Hat even considered me for Slytherin back on my first day, naturally, that wouldn’t have gone over well. I think now that I’ve matured into a more formidable witch capable of handling her own the Hat deemed me ready.”

“But you weren’t originally the one designated to be resorted, were you?”

“No-” she answered but was cut off.

“And you literally snatched the hat right out of your beloved Professor’s hands, did you not?” 

Hermione knew the jeering journalist had made that remark clearly to hurt McGonagall, and without betraying herself to glance in that direction, she knew her former Head of House was still reeling from that experience.

“Like I said, I don’t do things by the book. I took destiny into my hands. Surely the Hat believes I’ll accomplish something in my time there.” She replied hotly.

“Oh yes,” Rita snickered. “Lighting up the room. What are you, their personal House Elf?”

Clenching her left hand, Hermione summoned the strength to not reach over the table and slam the woman’s face into it. “If you think you’re going to get to me with your petty jabs, I’d stop while you’re ahead. What do you think of four years at this school has taught me, besides Wingardium Leviosa? I know an insult when I hear it, I know a disapproving glance when I see it, and I sure know fear when I smell it reeking off tacky dressed, talentless hacks who can’t even be bothered to hand write their own notes and resort to Quick Quote quills to sensationalize the barest statement about the weather into a global pandemic.”

Hermione took to her feet, startling the writer so much that she watched Rita’s eyes flicker into a startling shade of green before resorting back to their normal tone as she gathered her breath. Something about that color rang a bell in her mind but she pushed it aside.

“Are you here for the truth or for a promotion?” she leaned in, putting pressure on her wrist but giving no fucks. “Because if you tell the right story, you might just get both. Unless you’re too much of a little snake cowering in the grass to actually fess up? Oh yes, didn’t think I’d read up on you, fellow Slytherin? And how you’ve never been able to produce a corporeal Patronus?” She chuckled mercilessly. “Oh Rita…” she tsked in mockery, “Have you ever seen someone cast three of them at once?”

Rita shook her head.

“Do you know what else I can do?” Hermione asked darkly, earning wary glances from both her professors. “I can Accio the truth right out of you if need be, because I’ll not have you besmirch my character in that rubbish I wouldn’t line my familiar’s litter box with. I think my portion of this interview is concluded, if you have anything further you wish to know, see to my legal counsel.”

The woman’s jaw hung open for a second, sputtering to regain her composure. No on walks out of an interview from Rita Skeeter! No one dares threaten her like that! Who does this punk ass little bint think she is-

“Enough woman!” Hermione shouted, startling all three witches. She was positively humming now, her magic hot at her fingertips and in her veins, tickling up her spine and down into the marrow. “I can hear those nasty little thoughts of yours…” 

Rita paled and flittered-if that was even possible as a human-making jerky movements as if she were waging war with her flight-or-fight reflex. Her eyes had widened so much that she resembled a bug with her lenses magnifying her terrified irises. 

“You dare to try Legilimens on me?” the girl continued, sparks emitting from her fingertips, pointing one deadly finger right at her. “Probe my mind against my will? Is that how low you’ve slunk you insect?!”

Positively quaking, Rita emitted a yelp and grabbed her crocodile skin handbag and fled the greenhouse in a panic unlike anything Minerva or Pomona had seen. The two women shared a moment to blink in shock before regarding their student. “Hermione, are you alright?” McGonagall asked in a gingerly soft voice that was as soothing a hot cup of cocoa on a winter night.

Taking in several breaths, Hermione shut her eyes and nodded, trying to Occlude into calmness. “She’s not on par with Snape, but she didn’t expect me to recognize what she was doing. Unfortunately for her, she was projecting too much to actually get anything out of me.” She winced and shook her wrist a little. “Damn, I got carried away.”

“I’d say she had that coming, and has for a few years.” Pomona stated, offering her another piping hot cup. “Here dearie, with a little calming herbs.”

“You’re an angel.” Hermione sighed, sniffing the delightful aroma from the teacup and sipped the herbal blend.

The three of them enjoyed their time with tea, biscuits, and easygoing chatter. Hermione felt the motherly warmth from her two professors and only wished her own mother could’ve seen how powerful she’d just been, standing up to that adversary without resorting to a physical altercation. Or how proud her dad would be to know all his personal training had prepared her well. Although, then again, they would be highly uncomfortable with the whole situation. She deflated momentarily before McGonagall addressed her.  
“My dear, you still have plenty of free time today, perhaps a little stroll?” she suggested, as time for Sprout’s next class was coming. She followed the woman out of the greenhouse and along the path before stopping.

“No one I know of as young as you has been able to cast more than one Patronus.” She stated in her calm but serious way. “After all, the fortitude it takes…but are you aware that you can send messages with them as well?”

Hermione blinked. “You can? Amazing!”

Minerva nodded. “Watch.” She held up her slim wand to her face, closed her eyes and thought of her Happy Thought. “Expecto Patronum!” and bursting forth in corporeal form was a silver wispy cat. She opened her eyes and addressed her Patronus. “Message for Harry Potter, Hermione’s interview ended early and awaits your presence at the greenhouse. You are excused from class.”

Hermione’s jaw unhinged as she watched it sprint off into a silver stream. “That is the coolest!”

“When he receives it, it will be like receiving a Howler. It will speak with my voice and in exactly the same manner. Wonderful should you need it for an emergency, just as long as you can hold onto that thought in order to conjure it.”

“Can I teach this to my friends?” she asked brightly. “I was actually helping Draco construct a happy memory in order just to make a Patronus just a few weeks ago.”

“Were you now?” the old woman’s eyebrow rose with interest. “How did that go?”

“He was finally able to make one! It was a peacock!”

Minerva beamed. “Hermione dear, there is a reason we do all call you the Brightest Witch. If anyone can tutor a bunch of rowdy students and help one particularly conflicted young man finally grasp onto a pleasant memory, then who am I to deny you in anything you set your mind to?”

“I was worried…you wouldn’t like me anymore…” Hermione confessed in a small voice. Was this really the same girl who only moments ago terrified the socks off the most ambitious and vindictive journalist known to the wizarding world?

Minerva placed her hand on top of the unruly locks of her student. “My wee lamb, you are still you. And if there’s one thing I have come to expect from you, is that I am to never expect anything less than the unexpected.”

Hermione threw her arms around the professor, squeezing until she heard the woman gasp for breath. She loosened and they shared a light-hearted chuckle.

“I do worry for you. A great deal.” McGonagall confessed. “Please do refrain from being too Gryffindorian down there.”

It was at this moment that Harry came bounding up, out of breath and hair a windswept mess, tie askew and blazer open, showing that he’d run the entire distance from his previous class to their location without stopping.

“It wasn’t an emergency call. But thank you for your timely response. I’ll be seeing you two later then.” The professor said by way of dismissal and took her leave.

“I didn’t know you could that with Patronuses!” he exclaimed, wide eyed with excitement. Hermione was taken aback to see him so fired up on the prospect of learning something of his own accord.

“I know right!” she agreed, bouncing up and down. “I was thinking, we should gather up Draco and Theodore and teach them to do it too! It’ll be good communication if we have to split up. Speaking of, I need to find Winky and start sobering her up and also start applying my samples into experiments so I have viable results to turn into Snape. We can always use the lab as our meeting place since I doubt the snake pit is willing to endure having a second Gryffindor cross their threshold-even if it is for a visit.”

“Do you know if they can make Patronuses?”

“Well yeah, I helped Draco with his. We’ll have to see if Theo has or not.”

Harry laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

He continued laughing. “That’s his last name. Nott. Not.” He bobbed his head side-to-side.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You can be so thick at times.”  
…………………….

Seeing a feline shaped Patronus charge right into the middle of Charms was certainly a sight and then hearing the message relay for Harry was even more surprising as Professor Flitwick dismissed him and set to regaining order of his students.

Theo leaned over to Draco. “That was awfully fast. I’d have imagined Skeeter would’ve made use of every second allotted, grilling her on the smallest details.”

Draco grunted in response, focusing on his assignment but inside slightly fuming that McGonagall had called on beloved Potter to join Granger’s side rather than his own. Didn’t matter that Hermione wasn’t a Gryffindor anymore, she was still going to be treated as one. He supposed he should’ve expected that. He was by no means delusional as to how the Deputy Headmistress regarded him. He’d spent the better part of four years being a thorn in her side. Being cozy with her pet student didn’t change that at all it seemed.

He was cross by the time class ended, walking with Theo up to Art alongside the handful of Hogwarts students that took the elective and the entirety of the lovely and giggling Beauxbatons. 

Professor Todd Haberkorn was a Muggleborn wizard who had dual citizenship in Britain as well as France, where he was born and attended muggle schooling at Collège Françoise Dupont in Paris in his youth before securing a position as Arts Professor to Hogwarts. Fair skinned with grey eyes to match his puffy, swept back hair, he was a soft spoken man who encouraged free flowing creativity among his students, as his class was an elective and encompassed a whole range of ages.

Students on a free period were also encouraged to spend their time in his class as long as they weren’t disruptive or negative towards another’s work. Often, he’d get one of them to volunteer with a project. 

The studio room was on the top floor of the tower, allowing plenty of sunlight and fresh air that Draco found refreshing and encouraging but his mood was a grey cloud by the time he entered. Such as it was, he sat with a blank sketchbook in his hands as Theo headed over to his canvass by Luna-who had dipped the ends of her pigtails into the paint and was using them as her brushes, splattering little drops across her bare feet. No one questioned her method. Cho was sculpting clay-into what, he had no idea-and the gaggle of Beauxbatons were sitting around Fleur as she stood model for them. 

Haberkorn made his rounds, hands clasped behind his back, paint smears across the front of his white button up shirt that never quite seemed to scourgify away. “Ah, Monsieur Malfoy, lack of inspiration today?”

Draco huffed, tapping his fingers along the blank page. “Yeah, you could say that.”

It was by the hands of Fate that a knock came to the door, sending Haberkorn to go answer it as Draco flicked his quill absentmindedly until he heard two ever so familiar voices.

“I’m just here to safely see off Hermione.” Potter stated, “I’ve got my own schedule and I’m due back.”

“I’m under orders to have a sick day and thought I’d come see the Art Class, if that’s alright?” Hermione’s sweetly innocent inquiry hummed in his ears. How Snape had the fortitude to not fall under its spell was something to be admired.

“Oh but of course Mademoiselle!” Haberkorn happily replied, gesturing for her to enter. “My door is always open.” At the sweeping motion he made, the class was open to the pair and several girls giggled at the sight of Harry. He nervously chuckled back to the enticing Beauxbatons until Cho wiped her mucky hands on her smock and came bounding up to them. 

“Hermione love, I thought I’d never see the day you stepped foot in here!” she exclaimed, as if it had been a subject long contested and shot down. She whirled on Harry, her silky black hair swishing like a cape. “And thank you for bringing her!” she pulled him into a hug, surprising any verbal response out of him as he appeared stunned and momentarily immobilized. “You’re such a good friend for looking out for her. Thank you.” She purred, placing a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Harry turned four shades of red and fumbled for words but was left to stand in the doorway as Cho took Hermione by her injured hand, tucking it into her arm and leading her into the classroom like it was a dream come true. Professor Haberkorn sent Harry off with a quickly scrawled note excusing his tardiness and hooked his thumbs into the belt loops of his slacks as he continued meandering around the room.

Cho excitedly pointed out everything and everyone as if Hermione couldn’t tell for herself but allowed her friend to be enthusiastic as she met several of the French foreign students and wiggled her fingers in greeting at Draco, Theo, and Luna. Draco looked over at Theo who was suddenly stabbing his brush harshly against the canvass, blotches of red smearing what was once a half-completed tree. He splashed some orange on it and smeared it around just before their teacher came around.

“Oh…that looks angry.” He stated.

“Yeah…well, looks can be deceiving.” He replied between tight teeth. He continued his aggressive administrations, turning what was once vibrant and green into a burning pyre.  
“Oh it would be wonderful if you modelled for us!” Cho exclaimed, dragging Hermione to the center stage by her friends. “Your muggle clothing is fascinating, but today you look so bad ass that I’ve just got to capture it!”

Hermione could hardly argue as she had nothing better to do anyway, and had chosen to come here because she knew this was Draco and Theo’s class and figured she’d get the time here to talk to them about Patronus training.

“Uh, how do you want me to…?” she asked, just standing there hopelessly.

“I want a fighting pose!” the Chinese witch ordered, trying to pose Hermione’s wooden body to no avail. “Come on, loosen up.”

“Sorry, I don’t really know-”

Cho’s hand flashed right by Hermione’s face, instantly triggering her training. She swept her right leg back, bent her knees slightly, and turned her torso so that the left was leading with the arm up in a defensive block as her right was tucked in close at her side but posed to strike. All the blink of an eye.

“You were saying?” Cho smiled. “Just hold that pose and keep that serious look on your face.” She instructed, bounding off to her table of unidentifiable grey mush that she began digging into with vigor.

Had Draco not seen it for himself he wouldn’t have believed it. There was that spark in a second’s worth of time that the switch happened, that sweet swot turned into the poised warrior, her body immediately becoming a weapon and her mind a chessboard in which she could plan her strategy. And how Cho knew exactly what to do to bring it out, was just as equally impressive.

Damn Ravenclaws….

Nonetheless, his hand was clutched around his quill and he was suddenly sketching away, taking in the stance of her body in way he’d never seen before.

“Ah, Draco est-ce la fille que j'ai si souvent vue dans tes croquis?*” the professor inquired in his native tongue. 

“Oui Professeur, c'est elle.*” he answered in a small voice, trying to not be overheard. 

“Il y a du feu dans celui-là. Une jolie muse que vous avez choisie.*” 

“Tu n'as aucune idée.*” Draco chuckled. 

Theo placed his passive-aggressive work of reds and oranges aside and picked up a new canvass, sketching first the pose Hermione was in, then smudging globs of color in a minimalist style reminiscent of Damien Hirst. His preferred method to express himself was getting dirty, feeling the materials seep into his skin and stain his clothing, giving him some semblance of control in the tumultuous relationship he had with his own abusive Death Eater father. The messier the better, the flow of color and shapes blending into corporeal form until it became the recognizable subject it was intended to be. 

He looked over at Draco-bent over his sketchpad, nose almost to the paper as he obsessed over the tiny details he deemed important enough to include-and then switched over to Luna-standing with her eyes closed as her arm swept over the canvass with a wave of blue. Cho’s clay mound was now a stick figure, with her attaching little round globs to give her body a feminine form. Not everyone was drawing Hermione, a few other Hogwarts students were content with continuing on the project they had before she arrived and the Beauxbatons seemed split in their choice to further sketch their Champion or the new arrival.

After a moment, Draco got to his feet, carrying his sketchbook over and stepping right up to Hermione, still in her defensive fighting pose but losing the battle to stay so impassive the closer he approached. “What are you doing?” she whispered nervously, eyes darting.

“Getting a better look at my muse.” He replied with that cheeky smile she’d come to know as his truthful-but-playful look.

“Oi Malfoy, scoot!” Cho ordered, making shooing motions with her hand so she could better see her model. Without a sound, he simply stepped aside but remained close, eyes still fixed on the little brunette.

“How did Cho know what to do? To get you to do that?” he gestured to her body.

“It’s called Karate. An ancient Chinese form of martial arts. She’s had some training herself; hence she knew how to play on my reflexes.”

He crossed his arms, cocked his head to the side and steadily began memorizing her form. She furrowed her brow and squirmed under his penetrating gaze, wondering what he was thinking while looking at her like that. She felt silly, like at any moment he’d crack a joke about how she looked and why, but he never did. 

“You never cease to arouse my curiosity.” He simply stated, circling her. “Now I’m positively dying to know what this Kah-rah-tey thing is.”

“Well you have firsthand experience at being on the other end of it.” She smirked, watching him flush and grow slightly unsteady and suddenly felt sorry for bringing it up.  
“Uh...sorry.”

He shook his head, putting on a reassuring smile. “No, I told you, I deserved that. Perhaps next time though, we’ll actually make it fair, yeah?”

“Like…teach you?” she asked, almost losing her stance.

“Hold that pose!” Cho cried out, hand pointing at her. “I’ve almost got it!” 

Both Draco and Hermione turned to the impassioned sculptor. She met their eyes and dared them to defy her in her artistic rush, applying more clay to her figure. The determination to have it just right was enough to make the two of them stay put despite Hermione’s muscles tensing with fatigue. It was nothing she hadn’t trained for, only it had been some time since she’d been on the mat. Years away at Hogwarts had cut into her regular classes and she hadn’t progressed further in her belts. But she knew enough, she could show Draco Malfoy a thing or two.  
…………………..

“We need to meet in the lab after dinner.” Hermione said first thing once Art Class had ended and she met up with her two fellow Slytherins.

“Hi. How are you? Oh me, I’m peachy. Thanks.” Theo snidely tossed at her. “Nice to see you know how to start a conversation.” He said over his shoulder as he took the lead.  
Blinking back her surprise, she turned to Draco, who also looked just as confused by the outburst. Usually Theo was the epitome of good humor and so far, he hadn’t witnessed anything that would give him a reason to be so cross. He shook his head and they left that tangent untouched as Hermione continued, although in a more subdued tone.

“I just thought that it’d be a place where you two could practice the Patronus charm while I gather more samples from our flowers, and possibly brew some Pepper-Up potion to sober up Winky. It’s just ideal for all our needs.”

Falling behind the crowd milling down the steps Draco pulled her over with a one-arm hug and placed a kiss to the top of her head. “My brilliant witch, of course you would find a way to make the most of our little lab. Don’t worry bout Theo, he has his moods from time to time.”

“You sure it’s not me?”

“Positive love, he adores you if you haven’t noticed. You’d really have to do more than forget to say Hello to get him barking.”

She wished she knew Theodore better to have a grasp for the entire persona rather than just the playful jokester that he presented. Underneath the sass and witty comebacks was someone sensitive and keeping his true self hidden.  
……………………………

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * est-ce la fille que j'ai si souvent vue dans tes croquis?  
> (Ah, Draco is this the girl I've so often seen in your sketches?)
> 
> *Oui Professeur, c'est elle  
> (Yes Professor, this is her.)
> 
> *Il y a du feu dans celui-là. Une jolie muse que vous avez choisie  
> (There is fire in that one. A lovely muse you have chosen.)
> 
> *Tu n'as aucune idée  
> (You have no idea.)


	41. Loyalties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuff happens like Snape delegating cleaning duties to Ron. Blaise and Theo tease Draco about his rank in his relationship with Hermione. Hermione continues being a good friend to those outside of her House. The Anti-Death Eater quartet uses the private lab to put their plan into action.

Skiving off her interview with Rita Skeeter left her open for the Hogwarts Daily, as Colin and the head of the newspaper club, a Hufflepuff named Edna Gladstone reminded her as she made her way into Potions with her fellow Slytherins, marveling at the change that sunlight brought to the classroom. The liquids within their vials sparkled like liquid candy and the floor was an outright scorched and stained mess in need of something akin to holy water to return to its former glory.

Snape eyed her a withering glance but she straightened her spine and met it head-on with nonchalance and took her seat. He was probably just embarrassed at the true state of the dingy classroom now that actual natural light was piercing the darkness. 

“Weasley!” he called suddenly, summoning the ginger to his deskside. “McGonagall has tasked me with finding adequate punishment for your daring attack on the newest student to my house. I think you’ll find our poor laboratory has fallen behind in a proper scrub.”

Hermione could barely contain her cream-fed-cat smile as Snape delegated an entire floor-to-ceiling polish and shine down, for as long as it would take until the room met his standards of cleanliness. 

“Diabolical.” Draco whispered under his breath, loud enough only for her to hear.

Harry looked over his shoulder, throwing her a sympathetic glance before roving over towards Theo, angling for him to come sit at his bench. Theo took a moment, inhaling sharply and gathering his things, taking his time to get there. “Hey Theo, everything alright?”

The brunet shrugged and sloughed off his satchel and books with a heavy plop. “It’s nothing.” He replied with a huff. “Just my own bullshit.”

“I’m sorry. Oh hold on!” he jumped up and scooted his things over his right, giving Theo the left side. “So we don’t bump elbows.” He explained with a sheepish grin. He wasn’t used to working with a left-handed partner. When they worked together for the first time they knocked elbows twice before Theo explained he was a Leftie and traded places so that he was cutting the ingredients and Harry was stirring. While working together during the holiday, they’d often switch roles since Theo wanted him to finesse his slicing and dicing.

Theo gave him a slight nod. “Kindly appreciated.” A moment later he sighed. “Sorry. Just…trying to figure something out and having to deal with the possibility that I’m just gonna have to accept it like it is.”

Harry blinked. “Sounds…rough…I mean, I suppose that’s what we all have to do, don’t we?”

A wistful snort escaped the brunet. There were times when Harry was insightful, few and far that he’d observed personally. But he was more often than, completely oblivious. 

Well, no one was perfect, even the Chosen One.  
…………………………..

Hermione allowed her lunch to be used for the interview with Edna and Colin; killing two birds with one stone she called it. Strange Muggle phrase but Draco wasn’t going to argue its effectiveness. He watched as she joined them at the Hufflepuff table, where Ravenclaws Luna, Padma Patil, and Cho chose to sit by her. As Cho was with Cedric, and he was currently Hogwarts Golden Boy de facto, Hermione was as safe as she could be, given the proximity she was to the Gryffindor table, not to mention that there was Harry, the Weasels, and Johnson to intervene should Ronald even so much as look at her.

She was possibly in the safest place in the Great Hall he realized with a pang of sadness. He knew that he and his handful of loyal snakes were simply not enough. It was by sheer reputation alone that kept most others from attempting anything while they were around. Leave it to Blaise to point it out.

“Blaise, I’m well aware of who’s around her.” He growled. “You think I’d let her be over there otherwise?”

A dignified chortle escaped the boy with model-like looks as he delicately placed his spoon down. “Oh Draco…did I just hear you correctly? You…letting her…ha! As if she needs your permission.” He tore his roll in half, releasing a torrent of steam. “As if you could stop her.” He added a beat later.

Draco huffed and rolled his eyes. “Bloody hell, it was a figure of speech. You know what I mean.”

“Sure,” he nodded, slathering the steamy hunk of bread with a dollop of butter. “But would she know that?”

“He has a point.” Theo remarked.

“Are you two quite through? Or do I need Pansy’s opinion to make this an official statement?”

“Wouldn’t hurt to have an actual female point of view.” Blaise stated but returned to his meal. “It’s the nineties now, female empowerment and all that malarkey.” 

“So, are we going to address the matter of the spell she cast last night?” Theo inquired. “I mean, who else is ballsy enough to literally pluck the sun from the sky merely because she thinks she can?”

“Salazar would be rolling in his grave. Pulling out his hair if he had any. Screaming in Parseltongue and shitting fireballs.” Blaise laughed at the images conjured. The other two chuckled along.

“Don’t know what that old Sorting Hat was thinking, but Hogwarts sure won’t be the same.” Draco murmured into his cup as he tilted it back for a sip. “We are in for a ride gentlemen.”

“Mainly you, lover boy.” Blaise teased, tapping his neck nonchalantly, watching from the corner of his eye as Draco flushed. Damn his precious pale skin.

“I think we know who wears the robe in this relationship.” Theo leaned over, nudging him with his elbow. Blaise grabbed his sides with peals of laughter. They were never going to run out of things to torture their new favorite couple with.  
…………………

“I swear, if I get asked one more question about myself I’ll scream.” Hermione sighed as she slumped against the door of her lab. “Three papers ought to be able to cover one single story. Well, two actually. The one with Rita didn’t last long.”

“Oh do tell.” Theo theatrically batted his eyes and grabbed her hands in a plea.

“We need chairs or something.” Draco stated. “There’s only one stool and that stays at the table.”

Hermione rolled her eyes as she slipped her hands from Theo’s and grabbed said stool. “You pampered Slytherins can sit on the floor like good children. I’m not turning this into a hookah lounge with overstuffed pillows and beaded curtains.” She shooed the trio of boys away from her table and checked her clipboard.

“It was much worse when we first got here.” Theo admitted, crossing his legs and taking a spot. “Should’ve seen the layer of dust-”

“Alright.” She said, spinning around to address them. “We need to be a cohesive unit if we’re all working for the same goal. We meet here if we need to discuss the matter of You-Know-Who because it’s warded and secure. No one would think otherwise of me having some friends in here while I work so we won’t be drawing attention. First order at hand; sober up Winky. All of you need to assist in this. Brewing potion and making sure she’s detoxing properly. I’m positive we can get that done by next weekend if we all take turns.”

“I’ll contact Dobby and have him bring her here.” Harry offered.

“Good.” Hermione pointed a finger as if he had just earned points. “Secondly; the three of you need to practice your Patronus. Focus on it becoming corporeal and send a message through it. McGonagall said it works wonders for when you’re in a jam. The four of us may have to split up to cover more ground or each other, we can’t always guarantee that there’s someone at your back.”

“Whoa, hold on there, who’s to say we won’t be working in teams?” Draco countered. “And I only just got mine to take shape…”

“Even if we are in teams, one of us could get injured and will need reinforcements. I’m not leaving anything to chance.” She adamantly stated. She turned to Harry. “The last challenge is still June 24th, right? And you’ve no clue what you’re facing, no hint this time. Considering you’ve faced a dragon and the depths of the Black Lake your last one could very well be a trial by fire-literal fire! Or what if you have to face Dementors? A Boggart army? Trolls?”

“Ok, ok!” he held his hands up in surrender.

“What’s third?” Theo asked, making sure they stayed on tangent.

“Keep invisibility cloaks within easy reach. Harry, don’t let Ron make off with it, ward your trunk or something. And keep hush-hush on what we talk about. I can’t trust him anymore and wouldn’t want something stupid mucking everything up.”

Harry bit the inside of his cheek. “Come on, you know he hates Voldemort as much as I do. Surely we can bring him in on this, right?”

Draco rankled his nose. “I’m with Granger on this. Affiliation aside, you have to trust your teammates. Who here can say they trust Ronald Weasley with their life?” He looked around. Harry’s confliction was evident.

“Sorry mate.” Theo said, patting his shoulder. “If it’s any consolation, we’re not bringing Blaise or Pansy into this.”

Bile burning his throat, Harry just nodded weakly, blinking back the creeping tears. For three years Ron stood by side, a loyal companion through and through. Now he was paired up with his formal nemesis. What a year.

“Is there a fourth?” Draco broke the awkward tension with his question.

“It’s optional. But if any of you are willing to take instruction, I can teach you a few moves I know. Proper stance and how to throw a punch without breaking your knuckles. We obviously don’t have time for more in-depth moves and I’m only halfway there being a green belt. We have two months to prepare.”

Recognizing wizardly confusion, she sighed and explained that her level was determined on a belt color scale and she was placed only there by the authorization of her mentor, so not everyone levelled at the same time. She was close to finishing her level as green and on her way to blue. “That means I’m three away from being at the top.” she concluded for their understanding.

“Oh, I could even bring in Cho to assist-” she piped up.

“No.” A stoic Theodore flatly delivered. When all eyes fell upon him he clarified. “You said so yourself, we’re on this mission together. If we’re not trusting ye old ginger sidekick then we’re not bringing in a distraction named Cho Freaking Chang.”

“Whoa, what’s your problem with Cho?” Harry snapped. “She’s a nice girl.”

Theo whirled on him. “A nice girl who’s also very much taken Potter, or have you forgotten that?” At Harry’s red face, suddenly Draco and Hermione were seeing the connection. “Don’t think I didn’t see how you bout fell all over yourself when she pecked your cheek. Have some dignity! Your name wasn’t even supposed to fly out of the Goblet and just how do you think it’ll look if people catch you ogling Hogwarts intended Champion’s girl?”

Jaws hinged.

“Like you can’t get enough of the spotlight, you gotta go try making your move on Cedric’s girl? You know that’s exactly how Skeeter would write it.”

“I didn’t-” he protested.

“Look, I know you didn’t, not intentionally.” Theo replied in softer tones, calming himself down from his frenzy. “As a Slytherin I see things I can use against others. If anyone else had caught that moment, they’d be high-tailing it to Hogsmeade to give her the scoop. You just barely got out of her peripheral, don’t jump back in it.”

Silence fell over them like the chilly breath of a Dementor.

“Uh…thank you?” Harry said, swallowing the lump in his throat and blinking rapidly. “I wasn’t aware…”

“Alright…so that’s settled.” Draco declared. “Speaking of Skeeter, Hermione darling, weren’t you going to regale us with your encounter with her?”

Hermione recognized the tactic to ease the growing uncomfortable tension brewing between their best mates. “Yes, actually. Naturally she started asking about this,” she indicated her arm and bruised cheek, “which led me to explain about the spell I cast and the brawl that broke out-”

“Whoa, can we rewind a little on that?” Harry asked. “Your note only said there was a little fight between her and Daphne, not a damn brawl.” His sharp green eyes narrowed in at Draco.

He sighed dramatically. “I didn’t have it in me to go into a lengthy explanation in the Great Hall. So fine…” He took over the role as speaker, informing Harry of the audacious nerve the newest Slytherin had to introduce sunlight through every window of the dorms, common room and other subterranean classrooms to match the path of the sun and moon as well, watching as the Boy Wonder’s mouth gaped open like a hooked fish.

“And then Daphne freaked out…” Theo added with relish, describing the flip Hermione did and the subsequent free-for-all that followed, with Snape being caught right in the bloody middle of it like a riptide.

Hermione took the opportunity to stir the cauldron of boiled snowdrop petals and crush the flash frozen snowdrops into a fine powder before her wrist caused a wince that got Draco’s attention. He was gently scooting her aside to take over after bringing her right hand to his lips for a little kiss. “Would it kill you to ask for help?”

She smirked at him and handed him a wire mesh colander and funnel to strain the petals over the bottle they’d be filling with the liquid remains.

“Alright, that makes air dried, flash frozen and crushed, boiled, roasted, and mashed into a pulp.” she counted on her fingers, “I think that about covers the basic ways to extract samplings that we can start applying to regular testing.” 

“Considering the nature of the substances we have, how are we going to determine what it’ll do?”

“I would think applying it to a rudimentary formula would be best to see if we get the opposite reaction-as in, will it automatically counter whatever it is paired with?-or if it compliment it further or have no reaction at all. Something like a growth formula or even Skele-grow to start with.”

“Are you against live testing?”

Aghast, she spun on him. “Until we even know what this stuff will do against a drop of Dreamless Sleep I am not subjecting any living creature to it! It might cause instant death or cease of motor function!”

“Or it could do nothing and just taste bad.” He shrugged as he corked the vial of the still hot liquid, looking like steamed milk with the barest hints of blue sprinkles.

“Be my guest if you want to be a guinea pig but I won’t be to blame if you turn into a ferret and stay like that forever.” She pointed a finger at him and wiggled it.

He gaped at her crude joke, clutching at his chest. “How dare you?”

“Oh don’t worry,” she continued teasing, “I’ll take care of you and even knit you a cute green sweater. You can curl up with Crookshanks every evening and sit in my bag while I attend class-”

“Oh you vile woman.” He poked her in the ribs, eliciting a high pitched giggle from her. “Utterly diabolical and cruel under that extérieur innocent.” he purred as he slipped into French against her ear.

“Ahem…guys? Other people are present.” Theo pointed out. He turned to Harry. “Honestly, it’s like we’re not even here. Who woulda thought they’d be like that when not trying to kill each other?”

“Yeah I know. Still trying to get used to it.” Harry ran a hand through his dark hair.

“Oh sod off you two. Get girlfriends.” Draco bit back as he cozied up to Hermione. While protected by the confines of this little private lab of theirs he didn’t have to shy away from touching her, and he was not going to let a single opportunity slip by if he could help it.

They roared in laughter as she later delivered on her promised and told them how she all but scared the soul right out of Skeeter as their professors sat there merrily drinking tea and finishing their biscuits.

“Oh, to be a fly on that wall.” Harry sighed, removing his glasses and wiping his eyes as his laughter died down.  
………………………

“Look Harry, I’m sorry bout the way I jumped your case about Cho.” Theo said as they decided to depart earlier and give the grossly adorable couple a few minutes to themselves. “It got me so fired up I even snapped at Hermione and I felt like an arse for doing so.”

Harry tucked his hands in his pockets as they walked along.

“It’s just that…well…I took it personally because it’s a personal issue for me…”

He remained silent, letting Theo find his words.

“It just reminded me of how my father was…while my mum was alive and then right after…barely waiting for her to be cold in the ground…Off chasing other witches, her memory forgotten as easily as I was. Wouldn’t have survived if not for my governess and then later the House Elves after he managed to chase her off.”

“Oh.” He really had no idea what to say to a deeply personal and painful memory like that. “I…”

“You don’t have to say anything. There’s nothing to really say.” Theo shrugged.

“I know but damn…I feel like I should at least give you a hug or something.”

“That’s not necessary.” Theo quickly stated, taking a step back. “Didn’t tell you for sympathy hugs either. I just find infidelity to be right up there as some of the worst sins to commit. Some people, it means little. To others, it has long lasting effects.”

“Alright.” Harry nodded. “I respect that. I’ll be sure to keep my eyes to myself. I mean obviously, she has a boyfriend…I have no chance already.” He laughed. “God I’m a loser, crushing on somebody else’s girl.”

“Well it could be worse, though I won’t say how.” Theo groused. 

“Yeah, let’s switch tangents shall we? Happy thoughts. We need happy thoughts in order to make Patronuses; especially if we’re gonna do more than ward off Dementors with them.”

Theo scoffed. “Good luck with that one mate, never been able to make one.”

“Draco said he just got his corporeal, how’d he manage that?”

Groaning a bit, Theo scratched the back of his head. “Well…this was a few weeks ago, way before everything went…” he spread his fingers out to indicate an explosion, “but he said it was due to Hermione letting him kiss her.”

“Ahhhh.” Harry nodded, thinking back. “Well I suppose that would work…”

“Yeah, if you like girls-I mean if you liked the girl.” Theo coughed suddenly. He turned head away and coughed further into his fist. 

“We’ll have to think of something. Hey, that day we all had tea in the courtyard was a good memory, wasn’t it?” He said brightly.

Thinking back, he was absolutely right. Sitting in the sun, blankets on the grass, tea and sweets passed around, playing keep-away with Blaise and the Weasley twins before they broke off to go to the lab, where he and Draco were welcomed into the circle of trust and shown the Marauder’s Map and let in on the plan to thwart the Death Eaters that wanted Harry’s blood. That was a beautiful day.

“Bloody hell Potter, you’re a genius.” He smiled, pulling out his wand. 

“Do it.” Harry encouraged him, smiling spreading across his own face as Theo closed his eyes and said “Expecto Patronum!” and the silver wisp emerged from his wand, weaving around like tendrils of smoke until it pooled at his feet and grew legs, sprouted a head and perky ears, wagging a tail as it finalized its form.

“It’s a dog!” Harry exclaimed. “Quick, send a message!”

“Right! Uh…message to Draco Malfoy: Ha fucker! I did it!” Theo cheered and watched it disappear into a silver stream down the hall. He turned to Harry and grabbed him, pulling him into a tight hug. Harry laughed at the absurdity of the message but nonetheless reciprocated the hug in celebration of his friend’s success.  
…………………..

“Is it just me or was Theo just a little overzealous about Harry and Cho?” she asked once she had counted at least fifteen steps after Harry and he had left.

“Oh that? Well, he had a point, if anyone else had seen him acting the way he had. Potter sometimes can be quite thick-”

She chuckled with mirth as she finished storing away their collected sample of the day.

“-and sometimes just needs a serious tone to get it through that skull of his.”

“It’s good that they’ve taken a liking to each other. After all this with Ron…” she trailed off, emotion getting to her. “Sorry.”

He slipped his arms around her middle, pulling her towards him with a soft little tsk. “Hey now, you’re not the one who needs to apologize.” 

She shrugged. Then sighed. “I know. I keep telling myself that. It’s like my default setting. I just always apologize even when the situation is obviously none of my doing. Not exactly Slytherin material.” She followed with a chuckle.

“That’s the least Slytherin thing about you, but we’ll work on that.” He declared, leaning his head on hers. He enjoyed the moment, her warmth, and her little laughter. Just him and his witch. Like it should be.

Leave it to Theo to ruin a good moment.

The serenity was shattered when the silvery blue form of a Jack Russell terrier burst into the room in a flash, startling the couple into immediate defensive positions until it opened its mouth and out came Theo’s snarky and gleeful voice. 

“Ha fucker! I did it!” it shouted before dissipating into nothing.

“That tosser.” Draco exclaimed with relief, lowering his wand. “That insufferable git. Just…what the hell…” he broke his tirade with a fit of giggles, right along with Hermione, until it was an outright wail of laughter that left them bent over, supported on their thighs as they gasped for breath. “Cheeky…little…prat…”  
………………………..

They were still trying to quell the occasional giggle as they left the lab and headed down to the Slytherin dorms, bumping into Theo on his way back from walking Harry to the Gryffindor entrance. He was all smiles and preened at the fact that he had beat Draco at something.

Hermione rolled her eyes as everything seemed to be a competition between boys; she’d seen plenty of that from Ron and Harry. The list went from his current win with the Patronus onto who was the first to taste firewhiskey, fly a broom, have their first kiss and so on until they were playfully pushing each other and proclaiming goals they intended to reach by the year’s end. She droned them out as she approached the painting and spoke the password. The painting rippled as it turned from a solid into woven fabric and revealed its true form. She gathered a handful of the tapestry and turned back to the duo-who were still locked in their verbal debate-as she absentmindedly stepped foot into the common room and bumped into a very solid form and dropped it.

“Oi, watch it-” an irritable voice rumbled above her, “fucking Mudblood twit.”

A beefy hand clamped around her throat.

“What’s this? Malfoy’s pet is all alone?”  
…………………………..

It was only a second.

One moment laughing and joking with his best mate, the next hearing that dreaded word, knowing there was only one person it would be directed to, and then she was gone.  
The tapestry stiffened and returned to its hardened form once she had let it go, placing a barrier between her and the two of them. They rushed the painting and shouted the password, but the painting remained firm. Something was blocking it from being opened on the other side. 

“No!” Draco cried in frustration, pounding on the paintings’ frame with ever growing frenzy. “Open it! Open damn you!”

“Shit shit shit…” Theo frantically sputtered, pacing back and forth as the painting would only shimmer in effect but could not fully respond. “What’s fucking blocking it?”

Think! What would Potter do?

Draco and Theo swiveled to meet each other as they shared the same thought. With a nod, they both extracted their wands and took a deep breath. A moment later, “Expecto Patronum!” rang in unison and an explosion of light burst forth from their wands, the corporeal forms of the newly minted animal spirits of the peacock and dog emerging before their casters.

“Protect Hermione!” both teens ordered, and in a swish of smoky breath, both creatures slid in between the frame of the painting and the wall and into the Slytherin common room.

Several seconds of heartbeating silence followed, and suddenly the painting reverted and was swished aside.  
………………………..

Her back met the tapestry door with brutal force, feeling and hearing that crunch that was sure to leave a bruise if not worse damage once this was all over. The hand around her throat belonged to none of other than Hogwarts’ Hulk Vincent Crabbe, promptly lifting her off her feet to dangle inches and strangle by the disadvantage of her petite height to his.

This wasn’t merely for bumping into him, no, she knew it stemmed from much further, but this sure was his last straw. She was no fool; she’d seen him go up against Draco this morning, using his massive form to nearly flatten the blond in the rush. For being on the slow side of things, he sure hadn’t wasted a second in retaliating.

“Draco’s little bitch thinks she can just gallivant about like she owns the place?” he jeered. His proper use of the word ‘gallivant’ actually surprised her, had she not been gasping for breath and dangling like a caught fish she might’ve congratulated him.

Her kick to his chest only earned a grunt and a tighter squeeze.

Her eyes darted around the common room, several Slytherins seemed to be enjoying the show, actually cheering Vincent on and laughing. Her few loyal companions here were absent, two of which were barred from entering as someone had their wand pointed and was effectively keeping the door shut. She could hear Draco and Theo’s frantic demands for the portal to open.

As her vision began to wane, she caught the blessed sight of Blaise Zabini leaping his athletic form over a sofa like a prowling panther and kicking the back of Vincent’s knee, instantly dropping the brute down and bringing her with him. Before she could crumble to the floor she felt a breeze envelope her in warmth, with silvery wings embracing her from behind as the adorable form of Theo’s terrier barged up, teeth barred and growling.

A moment later the door opened, Draco and Theo barging in, wands drawn and ready to duel, taking in the scene. It was all in the span of a second, but Draco made a mental list of those he saw lounging about as if this were tonight’s entertainment. He drove his foot into Vincent’s chest, effectively plopping him on his arse and pointed his wand at his throat.

“Touch her again, and I will remove that hand permanently.” He vowed.

“You’d throw away us being friends for that Mudblood?” he spat at Draco’s bespoke dragonscale oxfords. “That little pet won’t last ya know. You can’t watch her forever.”

“I don’t need to.” Draco sneered at him. “I have real friends that will.”

“You’re sorely outnumbered there mate.” Marcus Flint pointed out smugly, crossing his arms and leaning lazily against a pillar.

“Blaise,” Draco called, not breaking eye contact, “Please escort my Pet,” he snarled at the word, “back to her room and make sure she wards the door.”

At the order, the peacock released its protective hold of her and flew to join his side, tail spread out in an aggressive manner. Blaise held firmly onto her arm and guided her down the hall and stayed with her as she unwarded her door, checked it for tampering and then nudged her inside. “Stay. For the love of Salazar, just stay in here.” He begged of her, pulling it shut and waited for the feel of magic to encompass the door once again.

He darted back into the common room, joined by Pansy and the other girls-who were in various stages of nighttime dress and beautified with hair wrapped in curlers and cream smeared across their faces.

Pansy didn’t need to ask what happened; the tense showdown was déjà vu all over again from just twelve hours earlier, sans the bright sunlight. At least this time, Daphne wasn’t a part of it, having just finished pinning her hair up and painting her fingernails right along beside her. The sight of the magnificent peacock and scrappy looking terrier standing beside Draco and Theo was though. She wasn’t aware they were capable of producing a fully corporeal Patronus. 

“Are we really going to have a repeat of this morning?” Draco asked, hands open as if he relished the idea. “I certainly haven’t had enough blood and bruises for my taste and am more than prepared for another round.”

Marcus smirked. “Feisty little dragon, protecting his filthy little Mudblood princess. He must really be smitten if he’s willing to make enemies of us all.” He announced to the room, arms spread wide to include all those who were on his side of the room. 

Vincent tried scrambling to his feet but was met with another bone-crunching kick, this time to his face. “Stay down you swine!” Draco ordered. “We can settle this, with or without Snape.” He shot back at Marcus.

“Expecto Patronum!” Pansy cried, producing her own animal spirit, taking the entire room by surprise when they saw the extremely rare magical animal that it was. “Unless any of you want to experience what it feels like to be trampled, clawed, or bitten by a Patronus then I suggest everyone backs off and goes to their dorms without another word. Or we will unleash them….Three…Two…”

Slytherins scampered over furniture and each other in their cowardly haste to not test the theory that a Patronus could actually do bodily harm. Marcus moved with more deliberate pace, throwing the stink-eye at Draco the whole while, but retreated nonetheless.

When the room emptied of obvious threats, everyone turned to Pansy.

“A fucking unicorn? Really?”  
………………………


	42. Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco’s breaking more rules of official wizarding courting but to hell with it. Hermione’s slowly gathering little snatches of information and clues, but is it enough to go on with? And a spur of the moment action nearly blows the whole plan to bits.

Vaguely recalling the lesson in Professor Lupin’s DADA class on the Patronus Charm and all the known forms taken ever since its origin, Draco never thought he’d actually see one in person. He never thought he’d produce one of his own either. And certainly he had no expectations to see one of the rare magical creature’s forms, but here he was, looking at his best girls’ silvery equine form with the spiral horn as it pawed the floor and bowed in reverence to her.

Daphne, Tracey, and Millicent were all atwitter with their fawning, the presence of the magnificent creature-even in ghostlike appearance-currently superseding any disputes the girls might share over Hermione’s place among them.

“Should we inform Harry?” Theo asked, ready to send off his dog again when Draco flicked his wrist and withdrew the peacock. 

“No. It’ll be like sending a Howler and we don’t need the Gryffindors up in arms over something they can’t do anything about. We’ll owl or enchant a note should Hermione even want him to know about this.”

Theo flicked his wand and the dog disappeared, followed by Pany’s unicorn.

“She ok?” he asked, trying to sound blasé.

The Italian-Brit nodded. “She’s warded up. Still though, what happened?”

“God it was so stupid, we were distracted, just chatting it up, she went on ahead and opened it …and then…” Theo smacked his hands sharply together to emphasize how quick and unexpected it had transpired. “Never saw a thing. Didn’t even have time…”

“I can’t believe you’re all wasting your time on her.” Daphne sneered. “She’s a nobody compared to us, not a drop of magical lineage and you’re all treating her like goddamn royalty.”

“I really think you should refrain from speaking about her like that in my presence, especially after what just happened.” Draco warned in barely contained rage, fist clenched tightly. “You’re either with us or you’re not. And if you’re not, then I suggest you retreat for I will not warn you again.”

She inhaled sharply, used to being the favored darling of the Slytherin House; it was insulting that even six members of her year were welcoming the Mudblood swot with open arms. “I thought we were friends.” She pouted defensively towards the girls. At least corral them back to her side before trying to work her charm on Draco and the boys.

“And we are. But even you have to decide where you draw the line on bullying and straight out attempted murder.” Tracey stated matter-of-factually.

“Yeah.” Millicent chimed in. “Like Slytherin needs any more bad press. Anytime anything goes wrong at this school, who gets the finger pointed at them first? Us!”

“It’s because those bloody Gryffindors get the favored treatment!” Daphne declared hotly. “They’re our enemy!”

“In case you might’ve forgotten, we now have the Golden Girl on our side. Her good standing with all the professors will lead them to extend that to us.” Blaise stated sagely, a finger pointed upright to hold her attention to his words. “And if we are the loyal ones who stay by her side and prevent any further attacks, just think of the good graces that will land us! If we convince McGonagall and Flitwick and even Hagrid that we’re all friends with her then the possibilities are endless Daphne.”

Intrigued, she held onto his every word.

“So while you may have your own personal belief, a little bit of compromise will go a long way in securing a better result at the end of the year.” He continued with his snake charming voice. “Picture it: House Cup, the edge over every other house, the most determined worker there is, on our side…”

If Draco had needed any convincing about the advantages of having Hermione on Team Serpent, Blaise’s smooth talking would’ve sold him in a heartbeat. He’d make an excellent deal broker. He could sell magic to House Elves. He watched as Blaise’s charm at least pacified her into “thinking it over” before she retreated to her dorm, the rest of the girls following a beat later. Pansy lingered a moment, just to see if they needed anything before she went as well.

“Hot damn Zabini,” Theo sighed, “Remind me to never go against you in a business venture.”

Beaming, the pearly whites of his teeth were ever more prominent against his darker skin. “Why thank you, although I learned that little maneuver from my mother actually. She has a knack for making men believe they’re the getting the better end of the bargain.”

Draco heaved a sigh. “Are we good?”

“Yeah, go see your girl.” Blaise said, nodding off in that direction. He and Theo gave him a reassured look and headed back to their dorm, leaving Draco to his own devices. He raked a hand through his hair and released a sigh. It would really be nice if Hermione wasn’t always set on the razor’s edge of life and death here, but there was no changing what had been done, she was stuck in Slytherin whether the majority liked it or not.

He knocked on her door, announcing himself softly, calmly, reassuringly. There was no hesitation in her undoing her wards and swinging it open, still dressed in her jeans and band shirt as if in preparation for another fight. He could see her resolve crumble as she tried to put on a brave face for him, which only made his resolve break even further.  
Still time, when he stepped inside her room, the door was shut, silenced and warded once again. No interlopers to disturb them as he pulled her into an embrace and wrapped his arms around her, breathing her in like fresh air. The day had been going so well, and it could’ve ended all too easily in the briefest of oversights.

“I’m sorry.” They both said to each other. Upon hearing the other’s apology, they pulled apart just enough to meet each other’s eye and offered a weak smile. No arguing over who was at fault, no admonishing for their own actions, they both knew it had been a combination of little oversights. It would’ve been inconsequential had it been anyone else, yet for them, it had nearly been fatal.

You’re not safe here. You never have been…

Not from the likes of these prats raised on old purist beliefs…

Not from the likes of my father…

Not from the type of world it’ll be if Voldemort returns to power…

The enchanted moonlight pouring in from her half-sized window gave the room a cooler look, the colors bathed in soft pastel blue. Draco was mildly fascinated with the effect and agreed it was better than the sickly green tint from the lanterns and glimpses of the Black Lake itself. Far more natural, like his bedroom back at the manor before coming to Hogwarts.

“Your spell is amazing Hermione.” He said after a lengthy bit of silence. “I can’t imagine everyone will stay mad for very long when this will make us feel a bit more normal.”

“I might be able to refine it later on, provide actual warmth from real sunlight and even include the illusion of seeing the sun in the sky, but that might be too much, someone might try to open a window…” she giggled at the thought.

“Oh those things have been charmed with the Unbreakable spell and that gets reapplied roughly twice a century-or so we’ve been told.” He replied. “You can rest assured that these things have been treated well to protect us. Shall we sit? My feet could use a rest.”

She nodded, letting him go and offering her desk chair but was surprised-not entirely-when he chose the bed and pulled her to join him. Still trying to be in control of everything, no matter whose room he was in, she mused. Obviously too exhausted to fight, she allowed herself to lean on him, intertwining her fingers with his. Was there ever going to be a day when her life wasn’t threatened?

“What did Crabbe do to you?” he asked softly. He’d actually not seen anything by the time he managed to get into the common room.

She gently pulled her hand out of his and turned away from him, slowly lifting the hem of her shirt to expose her back. “Slammed me to the wall…how bad is it?” At the barest hint of a touch from his hand, she jerked upright with a wince. 

The bruise was a horizontal line across her spine, a colorful mixture of reds and purples with those terrible blue blotches that he knew were extremely sensitive. After all, he’d had his fair share of them from time to time. Below the bruise though, he recognized the little indention that came from his own hands when they got caught up in the moment. Those wouldn’t be so easily to explain…

When she turned around and adjusted her shirt he saw her neck.

He had to fight back the urge to leap to his feet and kick down the door to Crabbe and Goyle’s room and throw hexes until sunrise, as well as all the expletives he wanted to shout so that every wizard within the castle would know what a lowlife Vincent Crabbe truly was. His blood fumed with the need for vengeance and retribution, but not right now, not when she looked at him with those chocolate doe eyes and could see the fire burning within his.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

He realized then that she didn’t have a mirror anywhere. Why would she when how was she presented never seemed as important as how she performed? Her uniform was always neat and pressed, everything to code, but anything else was hit or miss on those days when her hair was too much to handle or she’d chewed her fingernails absentmindedly while studying or even smudged her cheek with ink unknowingly. 

She brought her fingers up to her throat to touch the angry marks left by uncivilized hands when he stopped her. It was one thing if those were marks left by him, by his tongue and teeth, it was something altogether different knowing she’s been throttled within an inch of her life.

“I guess I’ll be paying Madam Pomfrey another visit in the morning.” She sighed, slinking down against her pillow and wrapping her arms around herself. “The woman is going to start charging me rent soon.”

Draco leaned in beside her, wrapping his arm protectively over her and clasped her elbow. “You can put it on my tab. After all, I am the cause for all this.”

His joke only brought the barest of positive sounding snorts before they fell back into silence. There honestly wasn’t anything that they could say that hadn’t before, other than circling the obvious which would lead to another emotional outburst that neither had the strength for. They laid on their side, facing the door and clothing rack of her cozy little room, listening to hypnotic sounds of the water sloshing against the window, bathed in moonlight that had actually shifted from the last time he took notice.

Such a clever little witch…

“I didn’t know the Patronus felt warm…” she whispered, breaking their long silence. 

“What?” he perked up. He’d been so focused on the room full of Slytherins to spare her even a second’s glance in case he had to fight them. He had no idea she’d made contact with it.

“Your peacock, it wrapped its wings around me.” She shifted and rolled over to look up at him. “You didn’t know?”

He shook his head. “No. I just ordered it to protect you. I thought it would act like a shield-well I guess it did-but I didn’t expect it like that.” He swept some hair away from her eyes and tucked them around her ear. “It felt warm?”

“Like a hug. Like this.” She replied, burrowing herself into his chest just a bit further. “I felt safe, almost like I could hear it promise that it would…protect me…”

He blinked several times. “Oh…Well…I guess that’s good to know. Right?”

She pulled her hand away from its place on his chest and trailed it down her leg to where her wand was holstered and unsnapped the leather flap. She brought it up to him. “Would you set this over there for me?” she asked, indicating the trunk at the foot of her bed. For a witch to hand over her wand to another was an honor-the ultimate sign of trust.

Draco sat upright and leaned towards the foot board, setting her precious vinewood wand on the trunks’ top, then grabbed hold of one of her feet and slipped the shoe easily off, letting it hit the floor with a thud, following it with its mate.

“Yours too.” She ordered. He turned his head, meeting her eyes. He knew what she was really saying-no, asking him to do-and there was nothing more in this world he wanted than to acquiesce. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice tight as a lump wedged in his throat.

“I promise I’ll behave this time.” She answered with a gigglish hint to her voice.

“What makes you think I will?” he countered, idly drawing lines along her jean clad legs.

“The fact that you have to have permission before you allow yourself to do anything with me. Except for the first time you kissed me, that one you took.”

He conceded to that one. “True, but you didn’t fight me off either. Had you truly not liked it, you would’ve made that quite clear. You have before.”

She bobbed her head. “Oooh, ten points Mister Malfoy.” She teased. 

“You realize, if I stay…” he shook his head, “There’s no end to what everyone is going to say. And I would be honor-bound to defend your honor.”

“Draco, stay or not?” she demanded, exhaustion driving her tone home. “But I’d rather not be alone tonight.”

He smiled and easily slipped his shoes off, letting them unceremoniously hit the floor in a careless heap. He followed through with undoing his necktie, tossing it to join her wand, and shucked himself out of his outer robe that he laid over her as he laid back down beside her. “You know this is against the ordinance of courting, right?”

“How is this different from the first night I was down here?”

“It’s different because I was acting as a sentry since you had no protection, out in the open like that. I’m surprised no one bothered to try anything but I suppose they figured we would’ve anticipated it. You have your own room now, walls and wards to keep unruly wizards away. And also…the fact that we’re sharing a bed…that’s…uh…a big taboo.”

She smiled. “You’re cute when you talk about wizardly courting, you know that?”

He blushed furiously. “I thought you said you’d behave.” He admonished, nuzzling her with his nose. “You should know the power of words, and how effective they can be.” He whispered against her ear as he fingered through her hair.

“Are you always going to stay by my side, while the majority of our House wants to make me their personal punching bag? While the peaks of high society snub their nose at even the idea of friendship between us, let alone more? While Death Eaters rally together to start murdering Muggleborns in their twisted belief of magical purity?” she asked in soft, scared voice.

“Yes.” He answered without hesitation. “Because I have sworn to. No one said it was going to be easy, but it’ll be worth it in the end.”

“In the end…” she murmured. “Draco…You know I’m actually quite terrified underneath all this. I’m not some fearless warrior, just a girl trying to survive in this crazy world. I just hide it well.”

He pulled her even closer to his chest, holding her tight for several minutes silently vowing that he’d never allow any harm to come her way despite knowing how impossible that promise was to keep. It was shocking, how painful the revelation was that he now had someone worth fighting for, worth protecting, and how dark his world would become without her in it. It wasn’t at all like he expected he’d feel, like he was powerful and prepared. No, he was just barely fifteen and nowhere at all steeled for the horrors that could be unleashed upon their world should they fail in their mission, running half-blind into as they were with disowned house elves and a scrawled note depicting the need for another boy’s blood. Just four teenagers with two invisibility cloaks between them and all the balls of a Norwegian Ridgeback, could they really be the defensive line between the current way of life and the uprising of the Dark Lord?  
……………………….

THURSDAY April 13, 1995

Sleep had come and gone throughout the evening as every little sound seemed magnified tenfold, jolting either teen from their slumber only to see the same little dark room and feel the warmth of the companion beside them, and would nestle back down, snuggling close to get back that sense of security from before.

As sunlight poured into the window, Hermione found herself covered in a black robe, with an arm around her waist and a chest beating a steady rhythm against her back and the slow cadence of breath tickling across her neck. She flexed her right wrist, wiggling her fingers and rotating it to test its range. She wasn’t going to get caught unawares today.

Suddenly a hand grabbed hers and a gruff voice growled, “Quit wiggling.”

“Good morning to you.” She giggled, hearing clearing irritation in his voice.

“I’d have slept better if I didn’t have to keep one eye open.”

“I woke up too.” She confessed. “I had terrible dreams.”

He nuzzled against the back of her neck. “It’ll get better…” he drowsily promised, whether to her or himself she couldn’t say.

“My God Draco, I never pegged you for being the cuddling type. You realize you do have to let me go right?”

“No.” he pouted. “I’ve made an executive decision to reside here from now on and rely on the service of House Elves for everything and you’re staying with me.”

She broke into peals of laughter. “You’re ridiculous!” she swatted at him with her newly healed hand. “You bed-hog, up and out!”

“You wound me Milady, tossing me out like I’m some common rake.”

Despite his grumbling and protests, he let go of her as she flung the fine robe off them and leaned down to grab his shoes. She tossed them over her shoulder, not bothering to aim and laughed as he cried out from the assault of his own footwear landing upon him a most undignified manner. “Ow witch, watch what you’re doing.”

“Hurry up and get out so I can get dressed. You can pass for having woken early and being dressed, but not me!” She grabbed his necktie and threw it at his face as he focused on slipping his feet into his shoes so he never dodged and let it fall against his shoulder.

“And they say I’m rude in the morning.” He scoffed. “I believe you’re the one who asked me-”

She whirled on him, grabbing at his face, a knee pressed between his legs, noses almost touching. “I know what I asked of you. And if you really care for defending my honor you’ll get out of here like Medusa was chasing you. Because I’m pretty sure there’s already others up and about.”

“Oooh, there’s that fire…” he smirked, watching the slight twitch of her eye as he knew he’d gotten under her skin. This was certainly a record. “Kiss me first and I’ll be gone.”

“You’re unbelievable!” She smacked his chest, but he’d caught her wrist. Damn it. “No, you need to go.” She pleaded. “You can have your kiss later-if you behave.”

He narrowed his silver irises at her. “Is that a promise love?” She nodded furiously. “I’ll hold you to that. You never want to owe a Malfoy a favor.” He teased.

She pulled him to his feet, making sure he had his robe, wand, shoes on, and necktie in hand before undoing her wards and unceremoniously shoving him out of the door. He slipped his robe on and finger-brushed his hair, heading into the common room with all the innocence of a choir boy before anyone could catch on that he’d come from quite the opposite direction of his own dorm.

Sighing heavily against her door for a moment, Hermione made quick work of shedding her muggle tomboy fashion and pouring a vigorous amount of Sleekeazy’s onto her hands to run through her hair and donned her uniform as usual. She grabbed her wand and satchel (with Harry’s Map tucked inside) and braced herself to face the day.  
……………………

Sitting in Transfiguration, she tapped her quill against her chin as she contemplated her response on her essay. McGonagall had given her supplementary work in lieu of missing the normal class lesson, just a quick essay on the characteristics of an Animagus. Easy really, considering who their Transfiguration Professor was.

She scrutinized her professor for a moment, taking in how she carried herself, spoke, looked around, and reacted to things. How did that relate to her turning into a lovely grey tabby cat? She had a sharp eye-cats had good eyesight, she was known to cock her head slightly, she moved gracefully and quietly too! Oh she couldn’t forget that night in First Year when Draco ratted her and the boys out and how she’d silently ambushed them all. At least Draco had to serve detention with them.

Oh she was clever, cats were.

The odd behavior of Rita came to her mind, though she couldn’t say why. The jerky movements, the way her eyes seemed too large, the all-around repulsive aura Hermione got from her presence…It made her think of other Animagus she knew, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. Pettigrew was shifty and paranoid while Sirius took long strides and deep breaths. She knew from Lupin that Harry’s father was one, that he took the form of Harry’s well-known Patronus. Did that mean the animal traits were hereditary? Even though the process to become an Animagus was one of-if not the absolute most- complicated spell she’d ever read up on.

Just the process of keeping a Mandrake leaf in your mouth for an entire month was daunting enough-without removing it once or you had to start the process all over again-and no use of sticking charms would cut it. It had to be earned through the sheer hard work and will of the wizard. 

Wow, they must’ve been quite the tight-knit group if those three underwent that process so they could see Lupin through his monthly transformations.

Daunting indeed.

Would Harry have what it took? Would Draco? Oh naturally they’d make it a competition, goading each other on the entire time like it was a game. Would I have what it takes? Would I want it bad enough? What would I do if I could be an animal? And What animal would I be? Would I identify with it, or be repulsed like Remus is of his condition?

Before she knew it, what was supposed to be a short essay ended up being several parchment sheets long of her musing and inner dialogue, all the while ruminating the possibilities that everyone already possessed an animal spirit like many cultures believed. It was by no means her best work, but the arched eyebrow of the professor surely vindicated herself in knowing she’d yet again surpassed the expectations the old woman had of her.  
…………………………

During the Slytherin free-period, Hermione tasked Theo with grabbing essentials needed for the Pepper-Up potion, because they couldn’t very well go to the Infirmary and ask the Medi-Witch for a dozen vials of it to sober a disgraced House Elf when that stuff was meant for students, and also, it’d be best if she avoided Madam Poppy Pomfrey for the rest of the month to get back in her good graces.

She tasked Draco with procuring more stools if his royal bum couldn’t handle sitting on the floor as well as a cauldron solely for brewing the sobering/healing potion. He grumbled but did as he was told, mentioning something about not getting his promised kiss yet like a child dead set on having sweets.

From his vantage point in their lab, Draco could see Theo gathering herbs from the greenhouse garden and decided now was the perfect time and place to get him back for that Patronus scare. He waved a Muffliato over himself and summoned the peacock with a thought of Hermione and recorded his message, sending it off with glee as he raced to the window. In the matter of a few seconds the silver stream arrived at Theo’s back and unleashed an unholy screech followed by ruckus laughter, watching as the poor boy fell flat on his arse and flailed his arms before grabbing his chest and collecting his breath.

Draco’s own laughter from watching the whole scene play out echoed down to Theo who threw him a rude hand gesture and had a few choice words that Draco could clearly see mouthed even though he couldn't ’ear it over his own peals of laughter.

“Honestly Draco.” Hermione sighed with a roll of her eyes as she and Pansy walked in with an old rug from an unused classroom and several pairs of padded gloves from the boy’s locker storage closet. 

“I swear, they never really do grow up.” Pansy snickered to Hermione’s amusement when she watched Draco playfully scowl. “Will this be all?”

“Yeah, just set them over there. Thanks so much.”

“No problem.” Pansy said with a wave, off to finish her free-period with the girls and their usual gossip circle. As always, the lab door was closed and warded-and now also silenced, to their combined horror of learning that the trio eavesdropped on their terrible row-and entry would be granted by use of Patronus messaging.

“Well now you’ve done it. Theo’s dog is gonna come back with full vengeance for that.”

“You have to admit it was hilarious.” He stated smugly with crossed arms.

“You’re just jealous he did it first. Leave off.” She chided. “Gotta say, I’m surprised you actually found stools and not some antique velvet padded chaise.”

“Oh must you constantly mock my refined tastes? The lady asked for stools, she gets stools.” He bowed with a flourish. “I believe that deserves a little reward.”

Her eyes would one day get stuck with how often she rolled them, she could just imagine the Healers at St Mungo’s being baffled by the amount of sarcasm she endured daily. “Of course,” she cooed, crooking her finger at him to come forth. “And I always keep my word.”

When he stepped up to her and set the stool over by the brewing table she sprouted up on her toes and pecked his lips. “There you go.” She added a little pat to his cheek for added insult when she saw his face.

That was as far as her playful revenge got. He’d quickly turned the table by snatching her wrist before it left his cheek, pulled her right up to him and hoisted her to sit on the stool. Taking advantage of her momentary equilibrium being disrupted, he grabbed her necktie and loosened it. He was already working on the topmost button of her shirt when she finally gathered her wits and held out of her hands in protest.

“I didn’t say I wanted a kiss on the lips.” He elucidated, unbuttoning two more before he had a full view of her bruised neck. He softly ran his thumb along them, feeling the pulse of her throat as she swallowed. “I knew Crabbe was a dimwit, but to be so uncouth as to throttle a girl?” he tsked and shook his head. “If I had known he’d done that to you beforehand, he’d have more than just a broken nose.”

“That was you?”

He nodded. “And he’s also on Snape’s personal Potion Class cleaning crew.” He added with a chuckle. “At the rate everyone is going, there’s going to be more Slytherins cleaning that class than actually attending it.”

Exposing her neck, he tilted her head back and ever so softly placed a kiss to the discolored spots, each and every one, tenderly as if he had the ability to heal the marks away.  
“Open the door you towhead git.” Theo’s Patronus growled at him after sliding into the room. It seemed they were immune to the effects of wards since they were protection spells themselves.

Breaking away from his little seduction, Draco undid the ward and opened the door to reveal a disgruntled Theodore Nott holding a basket of herbs and glaring sourly at his best mate. “I ought to zap you with Red’s Bat-Bogey hex for that. I nearly pissed myself and had a heart attack at the same time.”

Hermione stifled the laugh and threw her hair back. That was when Theo caught first glance at her neck and opened shirt. “Oh, was I interrupting something?”

“No.” she answered.

“Yes.” Draco replied.

She shot him a scathing glance and started fixing her buttons. “He didn’t do these.” She started explaining, not noticing the signal Draco was trying to convey for her to stop. “That was Crabbe’s handiwork.”

Oh great crystal balls…

“Crabbe. Did. What?” Theo intoned heavily, all jovial demeanor gone in an instant. His eyes hardened and filled with venom.

“Wait, you didn’t tell him?” Hermione turned to Draco.

Draco blew out a breath. “Obviously!” He turned to Theo. “Mate, Crabbe’s been dealt with; I went to Snape first thing and told him everything. Do not go off the rails about this.”

Theo only seemed capable of hearing with one ear. “Have you fucking seen her throat? Fucking hell Hermione, why didn’t you say anything? Have you even told Harry? Are you two just gonna carry on all la-de-da like something worse won’t be in store?”

Hermione slid off the stool and rushed over to him. “Theo, please, calm down and understand my reasons!” she grabbed his face and forced him to look into her eyes. “Theo, sweetheart, you stood up for me brilliantly last night, and I’m forever thankful for that. But I need to keep that stiff upper lip and not let on about it. Like Pansy said, I need to uphold that bad girl reputation. That won’t stay if I go crying to Snape every time someone gets rough with me.”

At some point, Draco had managed to wriggle the basket from Theo’s grasp and set it on the table.

“I know it troubles you, seeing me like this. And it would kill Harry. You should know he’s prone to attributing guilt onto himself for every misfortune that befalls onto someone he cares about. So you look me in the eye and promise me you won’t tell him.”

“But-”

“Promise Theodore Nott!” she ordered, roughly shaking him. “Part of protecting me is also abiding by my wishes. It’ll do Harry no good to know. No one else knows besides Professor Snape, and that’s how it’s going to stay.”

For a brief second, Theo tore his eyes away to glance at Draco, who merely shook his head with a definitive ‘you’re on your own’ because he knew there was no arguing with her on this. It was what she wanted. Against his personal misgivings about staying hush on the situation, and keeping it secret from her own best mate, he conceded.

He pulled her into a hug. “You drive a hard bargain girl. Absolutely barmy as they come.” Over his shoulder he met Draco’s eyes. The silence they shared spoke volumes.  
…………………….

All through DADA class, Hermione could’ve sworn Professor Moody-if he even was that-was watching her intently. Sure, he had an unsettling visage at first glance, battle scarred and hobbling with his limp, and that famous magical optic orb which earned him the nickname “Mad Eye”, but he’d never paid this much attention to her, even when engaged in verbal disputes over his teaching methods.

She’d feel like a fool if she started disrespecting him based merely on her own suspicions so she treated him with the same reverence deserved of a man who fought in first Wizarding War and was lucky to limp away mostly intact. Born of two Aurors and from a long line of those in that profession, his reputation preceded him.

But now that she was hyper aware of him, and having read up on the history books and news articles heralding his heroism, she caught moments of his Scottish brogue fading, a small tick he had of flicking his tongue-often right before he’d take a swig of his flask, and how he’d sometimes stand taller despite his usual hunch.

As someone who had brewed polyjuice, she knew the final and most important ingredient was hair from the living individual of whom you were impersonating. It wouldn’t work with hair taken from a corpse, and it took a month to brew, and the effects lasted anywhere from an hour or two depending on its potency. She’d missed out on the boy’s interrogation of Draco back in Second Year but she could picture it quite easily. Since Crabbe and Goyle were such utter dunderheads, any mistakes Harry and Ron made while masquerading as them were chalked up to nothing of consequence.

Ever since his disastrous game of dodgeball, the Headmaster and other professors cracked down on him to stick to the criteria. He’d lectured until red in the face over the impertinence of not learning squat unless you were literally faced with it, hence his more hands-on approach, and then angrily ordered everyone to write an essay describing situations on which they’d been in that required the use of such spells and defensive charms.

She balked at the very idea of listing all the rules she’d ever broken, the dangers that she and her two stalwart companions had encountered, and all the white lies she’d twisted to her advantage in their underhanded thwarting of Voldemort and his cohorts. But she was too good at her skill, her knowledge, and her finesse of such spells to play ignorance. Today they were seated at their desks, quill to parchment, as he paced around grumbling under his breath.

Daring to use this opportune moment, she pulled up the flap of her satchel and slowly began extracting the map out as Draco looked over at her incredulously and mouthed ‘what are you doing?’ while trying to not attract attention. She only responded with a little shake of her head and nearly had it out when a beefy palm laced with scars slammed down on the table in front of her.

“And just what do yeh think yer doin’ lassy?” the wooden-carved face of their professor demanded as he loomed over them.

“Just…checking…my notes…” she stammered, clearly caught off guard.

“What’d’ya need notes for? Can’t remember all tha little rules you’ve broken masqueradin’ as e’ryone’s beloved Gryffindor?”

Her breathing hitched as she felt the penetrating glare from his natural dark eye, trying to avoiding actively looking at the electric blue iris of the magical eye rumored to see through most things. Swallowing her fear she answered in a steady voice. “I made notes to answer such questions like that for my interviews with the Quibbler and Daily Prophet. Naturally, there are some that are skeptic of me truly being wholly Gryffindor or Slytherin.”

Draco let out what could only be described as an amused snort, earning him the full ire of the professor. “Shut it, ferret.” He growled, leering down at the student he was showing odd disdain for.

“That’s hardly professional.” She admonished, whipping Moody’s face back onto her. “Even Professor Snape is more eloquent when hurling insults.”

“Oh, defending yer dear ol’ Head o’ House are we? Thinking that failed Death Eater’s got yer back? Believing if I decided to wipe the board clean o’ points that your cauldron-stirrer’d hand ‘em back out left an right?”

She narrowed her gaze at him, feeling more and more that this was no war veteran deserving of her respect with every second. Her magic was flaring up, fueling fire in her veins as this man tried intimidating her with threats. Ha, that was every single day of her life here at this school. He was just another face in the queue.

“You know, we’ve already had one charlatan for a Defense professor,” she said silkily as she slid the map out and passed it to Draco under the table. “So I wouldn’t be surprised if you were one as well.”

Dead silence swept over the classroom.

Moody straightened himself, eyes wide but menacing all the same.

Hermione rose to her feet, fists clenched.

Draco tossed an indecipherable look to Harry, who hadn’t the time to register what he was planning until he saw him bend low as if he was looking under his desk.

Oh god, we’re doing this NOW?

“Got some stones talkin’ tah me like that.” The old man growled. “Slytherin or not.”

“Hermione!” Harry cried out suddenly, grabbing everyone’s attention. “Knock it off! Big deal you’re a Slytherin now, whoop-de-doo,” he twirled his hand in the air in mockery, “No need to keep rubbing it in everyone’s faces! You’re not the only one in the papers ya know!” 

Ginny tossed him a curious look, knowing it was out of character for him to shout at her like that.

“Oh jealous are we?” she shot back, immediately recognizing the ruse. “The Boy-Who-Lived can’t handle some competition with the headlines?” she let out a laugh sharp enough to lacerate. “Who would’ve thought…?”

All the while, under the cover of the desk and loud voices hurling taunts across the classroom, Draco whispered the incantation and opened the map and focused it on their classroom.

“I guess Ron’s not the only prat ‘round here.” That one earned several hurt gasps and shocked expressions. Everyone was eating it up, even Moody himself.

“Well maybe I’m finally starting to see what drove you two apart.” He growled, almost sounding sincere. He couldn’t believe the smile he’d just seen cross Ron’s face at that one.

“Took you long enough.” She scoffed. “You two were always hanging on my robe, having me do your schoolwork, having no clue what to do half the time without turning to me for the bloody answer!”

Several jeers sounded off from many Slytherins, laughing and cracking remarks that they’d been right all along. Neville looked positively hurt and it killed Hermione to have to glare at him like he disgusted her. “You’d never have won the House Cup first year without me.” She added, praying that dear Neville would know it wasn’t true. They all knew it was his last ten points that did it.

His eyes watered as he looked over across the room at Pansy, who returned with a confused look of her own. Hopefully, Pansy could explain it to him later.

“Oi Malfoy!” Moody shouted, putting an end to the argument and silencing the room. “What be that?” he pointed as he advanced back to their desk.

Oh shit oh shit oh shit!

Draco shuffled in his seat. “It’s nothing.” He firmly denied as it was clearly not nothing that was in his hands.

Hermione whirled on Draco and shoved him out of his seat. “And you’re no better!” she shouted, motioning for him to seal the map with a frantic finger.

“Mischief managed.” He whispered right as their professor leaned over, yanking Draco to his feet and finding him clutching some folded parchment which he promptly snatched.

Harry’s eyes widened as if he’d been stupefied while wanking.

Still gripping onto Draco’s shirt, he examined the folded parchment in his other hand, looking it over with his faux eye, although it stuck in place and wouldn’t rove around despite his fussing.

“What is this?” he demanded, waving the map around. 

“A project for Astronomy class.” Draco immediately responded before Harry or Hermione could try being clever. “Barely started on it but I’m falling behind. Thought with all the entertainment going on that I’d sneak a little work on it.”

As only Theo, Harry, Ginny, and Ron knew what the man held in his hand, they all were sweating bullets. Ron slowly turned his head over at Harry with his jaw dropped open, and Hermione knew that the chances were for it being confiscated was astronomically higher, given how Ron would perceive this as a deep betrayal. The Marauder’s Map was now literally caught red-handed in Draco Malfoy’s grip and there was no good way to explain why.

“In this class,” Moody drawled, “We focus only on Defense work an none other.” He slapped the parchment against Draco’s chest. “Next time I see any of yer with so much as Hogwarts: A History out, it’ll be confiscated.” He announced to the class. “Now, finish yer papers and shut it.”

He turned onto Hermione. “I’m watchin’ you lass, yer not foolin’ Old Moody here. Ten points from Slytherin.”

Taking a breath to compose himself, Draco then shoved at Hermione. “Good going Granger.” He admonished for show. He couldn’t very well let her push him and not do something about it...

But it had been worth it.

That was Barty Crouch Jr masquerading as Alastor Moody.  
………………………..


	43. Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron confronts Harry about seeing the Marauder’s Map in Draco Malfoy’s hand, and the line between friend and enemy is drawn.

“Care to explain yourself?!” the youngest Weasley son demanded.

Harry had been prepared for this; it still didn’t make it any easier though.

As soon as he had seen the Map, clutched in Draco Motherfucking Malfoy’s hand of all people, Ronald knew Harry had betrayed him, just like Hermione had. And both of them with the same person, just sticking it to him even further. He fumed until the end of class, watching the Slytherin Prince and his Bitch slink away together quickly with their loyal dog Theodore following behind, running off to Godric knew where with that blasted thing, and Harry simply allowing it.

They’d walked briskly along the corridor, separating themselves from the crowd and turned into an empty classroom. The door shut firmly as a silencing charm was cast before he turned to the bloke he’d called a friend and even a brother for nearly four years.

“Make it good.” Ron demanded. “I’m just dying to know how that son of a bitch managed to steal you away from me too.”

“He didn’t steal me away Ron, we can still friends-”

“Oh I think not.” He crossed his arms. “No, you only show that Map to those you trust. I got more fingers on my hand than people I’d willingly show that off to and Malfoy would be the very last name I’d utter with my dying breath to inform.”

“To be fair, I didn’t give it to him. I loaned it to Hermione.” Harry stated, like it made an iota of difference now. “She must’ve slipped it to him thinking Moody was gonna take it from her.”

“She’s Slytherin. And you’re gonna trust her with that?”

“What difference does it make if she is or a Ravenclaw? It’s still her mate, and becoming Slytherin only proves that she’s capable under pressure. She’s always had our backs.”  
Ron scoffed as if insulted to be reminded of such things. “You know, you almost had me going, thinking you’d seen through her shit. She’s still playing you, hell she’s playing the whole damn school into thinking she’s this misunderstood Mudblood-”

“Shut your mouth right now Ronald.” Harry warned. “You don’t dare use that word against her.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “That’s rich. Oh that’s fucking rich. So only Malfoy gets away with saying it then? Does he pay you a galleon every time he uses it? It is her kink now?”

“How dare you!” he charged, pushing Ron into the nearest wall and grabbing his shirt. “How can you even stand there and act like it didn’t bother you? You stood up for her and tried to make Malfoy eat slugs in her honor! And now, now because you couldn’t get over your petty insecurity of her with another bloke at Yule, you act like you have every right to be just as bad?”

Ron shoved him off. “Sure, I didn’t like that she went with Krum. But you didn’t see them in the hall Harry, she was with Malfoy.-”

“Yes, I know! You ranted about it all January!” Harry cried, throwing his arms in the air. “And everything else that you saw and heard, you told me about. And it wasn’t until I talked with him myself that he told me they’d managed to bury the hatchet and become friends. All Hermione wanted was the chance to see him as he could be, without either of us around to interfere….If she was able to forgive him, then how couldn’t we?”

“No Harry, you don’t get it.” Ron shook his head, voice growing bitter. “She was supposed to be mine. She was supposed to go with me. We were just…just about to be together until he sauntered in and worked his charm.” He turned and hit the wall. “I guess enough money and a few kisses is all it takes.”

“Ron.” Harry pleaded. “There’s still time to fix this. You just gotta apologize and be sincere about it. Talk to her like you’re talking right now. Let the truth out. Slytherin or Gryffindor, she’s still Hermione and we can all still be friends.”

Ron sucked in a breath. “Why’d you loan her the map?”

“She just needed it to navigate the dungeons. Then she counted all the windows down there and created this really complex spell and brought sunlight into dorms! Brilliant stuff, right? Remember how dark it was when we snuck in?”

He shrugged. “So what. They got sunlight.” He made a mocking rooting gesture with his hands. “You still trusted him-or at least she did-with that thing. And he acted like he knew what it was too.”

Harry didn’t want to have to say it out loud, that he’d trusted not only one but two other Slytherins with the precious item. But Ron had pushed. He’d pushed Hermione right out of the lion’s pride and into the snake pit.

“Ok. You know what?” he said, straightening up and bracing for the worst. “I did. I told him. I showed him. Because yeah, I do trust him now. I trust him with her. He protects her and actually cares about her.”

“BLOODY BOLLOCKS!” Ron screamed, shoving his palms against Harry’s chest and ramming him backwards into the door. “The hell he does! You’re only believing the lie they created! Don’t you see? I overheard them in the detention cell, it’s all a bloody damn sham and you’re buying it!”

Harry struggled under the enormity of Ron’s thicker arms, the anger fueling him with strength he normally didn’t possess.

“Why the hell would they continue to play like that when she’s not even in our house anymore! You’ve got Lavender, why don'tcha actually focus on her for once?”

“Oh like she’s a catch.” The ginger scoffed. “Easiest fucking lay in the Gryffindor tower and everyone knows it. She’s not even distracting enough to be fun. But goddamn Hermione is every-fucking-where I look, in every newspaper, in everyone’s gossip. I can’t escape it.”

“You’re mental.” Harry choked as he fought for air under the crushing pressure. “You need help.”

“Like you’re so bloody perfect with your abusive muggle family that hates your guts and reminds you of it ever day-”

“Shut up Ron!”

“How uncle Vernon beats you for the hell of it-”

“That’s enough!”

“How that fat ass Dudley eats until he pukes and they barely give you a bone-”

“I said to shut the fuck up about them!” Harry cried; anguish building up as Ronald verbally assaulted him.

“And how lovely aunt Petunia blames you for her sister’s death-”

“ENOUGH!” Harry growled, summoning the rage and throwing his friend off his throat, charging at him until they collided onto the floor and grappled. Despite all the horrible things Ronald had said, he still didn’t want to fight him; he still thought everything could be salvaged.

“And the sad truth of it is she’s right!”

And then Harry’s vision went red.   
…………………….  
“Guys, I thought Harry was coming this way…Did either of you see him?” Hermione asked once she, Draco, and Theo founded the corner once class dispersed. Both boys looked over their shoulders and glanced over heads as the crowd milled in the hallway, but somehow the raven haired boy had disappeared.

“Bet he and Ginger Snap are off having words.” Theo remarked.

“Words or not, he’s got to know…” Draco motioned for the two to get closer, “He was right. It is Crouch.” He whispered.

Hermione’s hand flew over her mouth and Theo’s eyes widened by several degrees. “Ron knows about the map, he knows what it looks like and everything. He saw you with it.” She said after she forced herself to calm down.

“Oh bloody hell.” Theo sighed. “That’s lout’s gonna bollocks up the whole plan now.”

“Let’s go.” Draco ordered, rounding the corner, now on the hunt for Harry and the Weasel. They tested each door along the corridor until they found one that was warded. “Now what?”

“They could just be talking…oh who am I kidding, they’re probably screaming at each other.” Hermione sighed. “Maybe they just need a minute?”

Draco and Theo shared a look. 

“Five minutes?”

“Nah, more like three. Fists might be flying too.”

“You know how to break someone else’s wards?”

“Not easy, but if we all give it a go at once, it just might overpower it enough without having to know which charm was cast.”

Hermione stood there and watched the exchange of quick sentences spoken with the well-rounded cadence of two that have had conversations like this before. No one ever really hears a Slytherin plan something out loud, but when they do, they make short work of it.

They turned to her.

“Oh, is my turn?” she inquired. “I was wondering if my presence was required.”

“On three, we focus on the door and overwhelm it with unlocking charms, reversal, and I’ll confound it.” Draco said, pointing to each of them as he listed off the spells. With confirmed nods, they all turned to the door. “One…two…three!”  
…………………….

It unfolded like in slow motion, although it only took a second to assess the scene and put a stop to it. The rest that followed took only a minute or two at most. For the briefest of moments, none of the boys seemed capable of stopping the situation, leaving Hermione to be the voice of reason once again.

“Get him off! Hold him back!” she screamed as Harry had his hands firmly around Ron’s throat, prone on the floor and unmoving.

She pushes them both towards Harry, each of them grabbing an arm and hauling for all their worth to disengage the two. Harry’s eyes are dilated and bloodshot, his breathing quick and in short bursts, unblinking and nearly comatose as soon as they separate him off the limp form of Ronald Weasley.

Hermione falls to her knees at his side, fingers pressed to his throat in search of a pulse. There doesn’t seem to be one. She lifts an arm and drops it to watch it fall bonelessly.

“Oh god Harry…”

“Well, looks like he did me a favor.” Draco smirked.

“This is serious!” she shrieks at him. “Do you want Harry arrested for murder?”

Hands trembling, she starts taking in calming breaths. Her parents may be dentists but they’ve taught her the basics in medical care. She interlaces one palm over the other and starts compressions on Ron’s chest. “One, two, three, four…” she pauses, repeats the process.

Pushing aside all her animosity and bitterness towards him, she knows his life hangs in the balance. She firmly pinches his nose and blows into his mouth, pushing air into his lungs.

“What the hell?” Draco cries out, bewildered at this intimate action.

“It’s CPR!” she shouts as she continues chest compressions, then goes back again with mouth-to-mouth. “He needs air or he’ll die.”

Harry is stoic and unmoving, staring blankly off at nothing in particular as he is slumped against Theo. He and Draco watch as Hermione performs this muggle ritual.

“Get over here!” she orders at one of them. Theo nudges Draco forward. She grabs his hands and forces them into the interlacing fists. “Pump four times, then pause, then four again.”

She pinches Ron’s nose and blows into his mouth as Draco obeys the instructions given. While despising the redhead he certainly doesn’t want Hermione or Harry to blame him for not at least trying to do the right thing. Just what had happened? They were only gone a few minutes.

It’s obvious it’s not a kiss. He clearly hears her inhale as deep as she can before blowing it into his mouth, forcing air into his windpipe. That doesn’t make it any easier to bear. Why should she care about saving his life when he’s treated her so badly?

Finally, the sign of life, Ron coughs and gasps. Draco stops pumping his chest and Hermione lifts his head up so he can breathe better. His eyes roll back into his head and he falls limply, passed out but alive at least.

“Ok…ok…” she says to no one in particular. “We’ve got to get him help.”

All three boys look hopeless and helpless. She sighs. 

“Draco, get Harry to the lab. He can’t be seen like this. He’s in no condition for class or anything. Theo, you take Ron to the Infirmary-”

“Why me?”

“Because I can’t be seen with him like this!” she exclaims vehemently. “If Pomfrey sees me in the Med Wing again there’s no telling what kind of hell she’ll rain down. Just say you found him, knocked unconscious or something. We can’t let Harry get busted for this!”

“No one’s gonna believe I did this out of the good of my heart.” He replied.

“For the love of God can you two please work with me? Find then, send a Patronus! I can’t be here, neither can Harry. We need to figure out what just happened before anything else.”

Draco nodded. “Alright. We don’t need a Hogwarts Champion getting scandalized over some stupid fight between mates. Theo, can you just send a Patronus for help?”

Theo sighed. “Ok, give me a minute.” He breathed in and shut his eyes. A beat later he incanted the spell and summoned his dog. “Message to Madam Pomfrey: I found Ron Weasley unconscious in an empty classroom right outside of Defense Class but I don’t want to be seen and blamed for this. Please come immediately.”

The form shimmered into a stream and swiftly shot out of the doorway.

“Ok, we’re set. Let’s go.” Theo pushed Harry up as Hermione and Draco each grabbed an arm and hauled him to his feet. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s in shock. Move it before she gets here.” She ordered, helping sling one of Harry’s arms over Theo’s neck as Draco did the same. They all but carried him down the hall and up the flight of stairs before Madam Pomfrey arrived with help from some of the House Elves and found Ronald unconscious but breathing.  
………………………….

Thankfully, Magical History had been their next class, and it was known for being the most skipped of all the subjects-not due to the subject matter, but for who taught it-and it would be easy to catch up for the following lesson. But having an actual ghost drone on and on about the who, what, when, and where of something they could simply read for themselves often turned even the most dedicated student to tears.

With the lab silenced and warded and Harry at least sitting upright on the floor-with the carpet she acquired earlier already set out-Hermione released a shuddering breath and knelt in front of her friend, taking his face into her hands.

“Harry…it’s me…you’re safe now, you’re fine. Come back to me Harry.” She called softly, running her hand through his hair as she held his chin. Draco summoned Dobby and asked him for a vial of Calming Draught and tea. He then started busying himself with the cauldron and herbs collected earlier, absentmindedly fiddling with them until the house elf returned with the drinks.

“Is Harry alright?” Dobby asked.

Draco shook his head. “No Dobby, Harry’s not alright. But he will be soon.”

Theo uncorked the vial and put in Harry’s hand. “Here mate, drink up.” Harry seemed not to hear him, so Theo lifted his arm up until the vial was practically at his lips, then reflex took over, Harry stiffened and tipped back the bottle and swallowed the potion. He dropped it and groaned, clutching his forehead, right at his scar.

“Harry? Are you lucid now? What’s my middle name?” Hermione inquired, watching his eyes.

“Huh? Middle name…J-Jah….Jean.” he answered groggily. 

“Good Harry,” she spoke softly, as if addressing a child. “Who else is in here?”

Warily, Harry looked around. “Malfoy. Nott. Dobby.”

She nodded. “And do you remember talking to Ron?”

Harry dryly smacked his lips until Theo handed him a cup for tea. He guzzled it and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand-which slightly trembled. “He saw the map. Wanted answers. Said horrible things…”

“Why am I not surprised?” Draco muttered as he leaned against the table. “How’d your hands end up around his throat then?”

Hermione spun around and hissed at him. “Subtle!”

Draco shrugged.

Harry leaned forward, against Hermione’s chest and wrapped his arms around her. A moment later, she patted his back and soothingly ran her hands across his scalp. “It’s alright Harry. You can tell us. No one else knows. It’s safe to talk.”

Only an unidentifiable muffle came.

“Maybe…we shouldn’t push this.” Theo suggested, seeing Draco grow tense.

“Whatever it was, it must’ve been building up. If he keeps it bottled in again, then the next time something like this happens there may be no saving him or whoever he attacks. We’re just lucky it was with his bare hands and not his wand.”

“Considering you had to bestow the Kiss of Life to the Weasel?”

“Please tell me that’s not jealousy I hear.” She snapped without even looking at him. Her eyes were focused on Theo’s and he was choosing now of all times to remain silent.

“He called you….called you that word.” Harry spoke up, breaking the tension.

Draco clenched a fist as he crossed his arms and locked his jaw in a tight scowl aimed at the window. He would never forgive himself for opening the floodgate of having that word addressed to her.

“He’s just using Lavender but could care less.” Harry continued. “He brought up my family…how they treat me…the things they do…Blaming me for my parent’s deaths…” Tears welled up in his eyes.

“Sweet Salazar, he stooped that low?” Theo growled. “That is a line you just don’t cross.”

“All of it was a line you don’t cross.” Draco said tightly, eyes still fixed on the window. “He had all the ammunition to use against you. Systematically attacking your friendship with Hermione and your guilt for your parents murder. Not to mention the shame of being the Dursley’s punching bag…”

Hermione turned to see Draco, a curious expression on her face. Since when had Harry opened up about that? She gently nudged Harry off of her, starting to ache by the position she had been somewhat forced in. He automatically gravitated towards Theo and leaned against him. She got to her feet and approached her pale and pensive boyfriend, laying a hand gently upon his arm.

“Don’t ask, please.” He whispered. “Just accept that I know, so does Theo. It’s not something we’ve discussed since.”

“There’s more you’re not saying.” She stated in just as quiet a tone. “I realize, you may not be able to talk about yourself as much as I do. And if I ever touch a subject you’re uncomfortable with, you must tell me. So I don’t cross that line.”

He nodded, ever so slightly. 

“You’re uncomfortable with me performing CPR on Ron aren’t you?”

“You could say that.”

“And you’d prefer knowing he died by Harry’s hands?”

“No. I’d rather he be eaten by a dragon. But I can tell you’re not happy with that answer either.”

She touched his cheek. “Are you being facetious as a defense or are you trying to rile me up?”

“I think you’ve had enough riling for the day.” He finally turned his head towards her, leaned down just enough so that their foreheads touched. “Do you care to explain why you risked everything with the Map in first place?”

“I took the opportunity of us all being in the classroom…and I remembered something I read about Moody a while back, that Eye of his can see through Invisibility Cloaks. If either you are Harry were caught with them before we could actually confirm anything, then we’d really be sunk.”

“And if I hadn’t been able to close the Map, it would’ve been just as disastrous. You nearly cost Harry one of his few heirlooms from his father.”

She bit her lip. “I realize that.” She admitted. “Honestly, I thought I could get away with a quick peak and verify it just so I knew if we were on the right trail or chasing a theory.”

“Impulsive.” He admonished. “Completely reckless and brazen. Something I’d expect from him, but not you.”

“Speaking of him,” Theo cleared his throat.

The couple turned to their friend, seeing him support and softly embrace the subject of their conversation. “I think he’s falling asleep on me.”

It was almost cute actually; Hermione had to admit, with Theo mimicking her administrations to his hair as Harry leaned onto him as if his life depended on it. At least here, in this place, during this time, Harry had someone. After nearly strangling someone to death with his own bare hands, he needed all the support he could get.

Dobby patted Harry’s arm in comfort, which seemed to really bring him back from his thousand-yard stare. Perhaps it was just the touch of an even older friend, maybe the magic residing within the elf’s body, but either way Harry started regaining himself. He sat up, glasses askew and hair ruffled, and looked around at his small group of friends, each with concern etched on their faces.

“Is the Map safe?” he asked, adjusting his glasses.

“Yeah, you want it back?” Draco asked, ready to pull it out of his own bag.

Harry shook his head. “No…It’s probably best that it not be in the Gryffindor tower right now.”

“Harry I am so sorry for what happened in class.” Hermione blurted out in an emotional rush. “I shouldn’t have acted of my own accord, not after we just agreed to a plan.”

“So does this mean we don’t need to sober up Winky?” Theo asked.

Hermione shook her head. “Unfortunately not. We’re still going to need her to verify the Moody is Crouch-” she stopped herself and looked at Dobby. “Dobby, tell me something. If Draco drank polyjuice and made himself to look like me or Harry would you still be able to tell who he was?”

Dobby tilted his large head and gave Draco an once-over, then shifted his gaze to Hermione and Harry. “Wizards have ways, but not all magic can be completely disguised. Draco smells different from Harry, his magic feels different too.”

“So, it’s possible right?” she prompted.

“But Winky does not work for the Crouch House anymore.” Dobby responded. “She’s down in the kitchens-”

Hermione knelt before the little creature. “Yes Dobby, we know that. And we’re going to sober her up and give her a little task to do. That’s all she wants, right? Is to have work again?” He nodded. “Good, then we’ll give Winky a job once she’s not lost in the bottom of a bottle. It’s an important job, and requires concentration and a strong memory. Can Winky do it?”

Dobby bobbed his head vigorously. “Oh yes, Winky will be most pleased to know she has work and is helping! And Dobby will help too! Winky has been sad for so long.”

Hermione pulled Dobby into a hug. “There there, I know. And we’re gonna fix it. You’re a great friend Dob, I’m sure everyone here agrees.” She glanced at the trio. “Right?”

“Of course.”

“Absolutely.”

“He always has been.”

Hermione beamed as she saw the kind words lighten the disowned House Elf’s eyes up light Christmas morning. Such like a child being praised for finally succeeding at something they struggled with, the endearments went further than a surface smile; it resonated deep within the soul.

“Dobby, can I trust you with keeping this lab of mine secret? You do not talk about the things discussed in here, or what you see?”

“Of course, Dobby is honorable towards those who bestow such kindness to disgraced Elves such as Winky. Miss Hermione is deserving of all House Elves’ gratitude.”

“Then welcome to the team.” She said, extending a hand out to the humbled elf, who looked as if he was in the presence of royalty and at a loss for following the proper parameters of behavior. Seeing his star-struck reluctance, Draco cleared his throat.

“You shake her hand Dobby.” He explained. “It is a gesture to show your loyalty to her and us. A vow, if you will, without magic involved.”

Only on extremely rare occasions was an Unbreakable Vow established between House Elf and human, granted mainly due to the fact that House Elves were bonded in servitude to their family and had no inclination to disobey or be disowned. After that clarification, he gingerly took her hand and held it, having her lead in the shake.

“Alright, so about the Map,” she continued on as if the tangent with Dobby never took place, on her feet in an instant. “I’ll disguise it as a star chart, since you said it was Astronomy homework, just in case if Ron does tell Dumbledore or McGonagall about it and they come looking. It’ll be safer in my room, since I have no roommates that could accidentally see or take it either.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good for now.”

“If at all possible, I’d like that Winky can identify Crouch in front of Dumbledore and there won’t be a need to mention the map, because for now it’s only confirmed our suspicions. We still need physical proof to bring without the risk of getting it confiscated.”

“I think it goes without saying, but I’ll do it anyways when I say that none of us should be acting on spur of the moment impulses.” Theo chimed in. “You inadvertently caused that attack on Weasley-not that I’m saying the git doesn’t bring it on his own damn self-but Harry was the conduit in lieu of your action.”

Properly chastised and reprimanded and cowed, Hermione bit her lip and nodded. “It won’t happen again.” She promised. “We’re a team.”

Now that Harry was clear-minded, he caught onto something about his friend that had previous gone unnoticed. Up on his feet, with a tilt of his head and the inquisitive nature he possessed, he leaned into Hermione’s personal space. “What happened?” he asked, pointing at her throat.

“Oh!” she gasped, automatically bringing her hand to block the unsightly bruising. In the hustle and bustle of CPR and consoling Harry, her tie had loosened and she’d unbuttoned her shirt without realizing.

Draco slid up to Hermione and cheekily embraced her from behind, pressing a possessive kiss to the side of her neck. “Sorry…got a little carried away last night.” he replied with all the snark and smugness he used to address them with.

Hermione flushed furiously, Theo tried composing his face into a mask of indifference, and Harry raised a dark eyebrow with brows wrinkled in processing that mental image. “Really Malfoy, she’s like my sister. A little more discretion next time, yeah?”

Draco gently placed his hand over the marks on her throat. “Then don’t be questioning curious marks elsewhere.” He teased. Hermione elbowed him in the gut.

“Ok boys, that’s enough prying. And Draco, you keep that up and you’ll be grounded from touching me for a week. We clear?”

Harry shuddered. “Sometimes I regret giving the green light on this.” He pinked the bridge of his nose. “They always like this?” he turned to Theo, who was sitting with Dobby just being amused.

“I’m reserving my right to not comment on that.” Self-preservation was the only way he wouldn’t stick his foot in his mouth.   
………………………

History was the last class of the day, and it did not take long for word to spread about Weasley being found unconscious in an abandoned room and a certain quartet of students that had unaccounted for in that class. Professor Cuthbert Binns, bless his non-beating heart, never reported on absentee students so it was purely by word-of-mouth from those who had attended-and mainly those who did not fall asleep-to spread the gossip.

Harry was immediately sought out by Professor McGonagall once class ended, so he shot the others a hopeful, withering, and terrified look before going with her. He followed in silence as she led the way to the Infirmary. Honestly, he had no idea what to expect. Had Ron spilled everything? Was his memory going to be asked for? Would he be pulled from the Tri-Wizard Tournament?

“As his friend,” McGonagall started, pulling him from his musings, “you should be informed. We’ve already contacted the others and they’ve seen to him. He claims he doesn’t remember anything and doesn’t want to be probed about it any further.”

“Uh…what?” was all he managed to say, sounded as confused as he needed to in order to mask his part in the situation.

“Don’t worry, he’s all right now.” She assured him. She pulled back the curtain to reveal Ronald laying in the medical bed, propped up on a pillow and just setting his cup of water down.

“Oh.” Harry dumbly replied, bewildered as to why he wasn’t being interrogated and dragged over the coals.

“I’ll leave you two it then.” She stated, exiting just as swiftly as she had brought him.

“So…you’re uh…ok.”

Ron flicked his tongue over his teeth. “No thanks to you.”

“You want an apology? That it? Because honestly I don’t think I could make it sound convincing.”

“No Harry. You can keep your apology and your damn map and your fucking Slytherin friends because I don’t need any of it.” He crossed his arms. “And I certainly don’t need to have it held over my head that Granger and Malfoy did something to help.”

“Wow. They save your life and you can’t even muster a decent Thank You. Guess you don’t value your own life very much.” He deadpanned.

“What kind of life is it when I’ve lost my best mates to the enemy?”

“Maybe is you weren’t such a shit friend that used a person’s personal pain against them when things don’t go your way you’d still have your best mates.”

Ron just nodded as if he were receiving a lecture from his parents.

“Look,” Harry said, flatly and determined to be heard. “I can’t do this anymore. You crossed the line with me. You made me snap. I think it’s best that we just keep our distance-as much as we can given that I’m not going to go have myself resorted to get away from you. You and I…we just can’t work like we used to. I never thought we’d come to this, but you’ve managed to push both Hermione and I away.”

“Don’t consider yourself invited back to the Burrow for the summer, or Christmas for that matter.” Ron bitterly replied, his blue eyes staring at his blanket-clad feet, unable to look Harry in the eye.

They both knew how much that place meant to Harry, his magical home away from home. The first place he’d ever felt welcomed, accepted, and loved in. To take that away was a knife in the heart.

“Yeah.” Harry replied, biting back the emotion creeping up his throat. “I figured you’d say that. I’m sure your family will be just as easy to convince that you’re somehow the victim in all of this.”

“This time I was.” Ron growled, finally snapping his eyes back at him.

Harry shook his head. “No Ron, this time I was. And I showed you how well I take to being abused. And don’t you forget that it was such a thin line you crossed.”

Having nothing more to say, Harry left the Infirmary and marched straight down to the Great Hall and met with his housemates for afternoon tea. He didn’t feel the urge to eat, nor did he want to talk, but for the sake of appearances he did both. The snacks did little to quell his stomach as Fred, George, and Ginny asked him if he knew what happened to Ron this time around-for they weren’t terribly surprised but were concerned nonetheless-and it twisted his gut to bold-face lie to them all. It only forced him to focus more on his homework as the subject of conversation eventually steered onto other matters.

If Ron wasn’t going to say anything, then neither was he.

It was the only thing they could agree on right now.  
………………………..


	44. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s difficult, juggling so many secrets and from whom. There’s no one who knows the complete truth about anything, for their own good or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *TRIGGER* for underage sexual themes

Hermione asked Pansy to accompany her to the Gryffindor table. She knew having Pansy at her side would make Neville more receptive to speaking with her and awful as it seemed to play on his emotions so well, she knew it was the Slytherin way to things.

With just a look, she was able to convey that neither Draco or Theodore were to come, and they reluctantly agreed and stayed at their table, eyes fixed on the girls as they left.  
“I don’t know how you managed to cowl them with just a look but I am loving it.” Pansy snickered. “I’ve never seen anyone able to take Draco down a notch from his little seat of power.”

Hermione shrugged. “Perhaps the years of whipping Harry and the Weasel have given me just the edge I need.” She replied, falling into addressing her former friend by his unflattering nickname much like most Slytherins did.

“Speaking of…”

“That’ll be addressed momentarily.”

Tentatively, she approached the Gryffindor table, Pansy a step behind but clearly with her. Several heads turned towards them. They all showed some varying degree of curiosity and suspicion.

“Neville, can I speak with you?” Hermione asked sweetly.

He turned his head away from her and raked through his hair. “I don’t know.”

“I want to explain what happened. It wasn’t personal.”

“Thenwhynotsayitinfrontofallerus?” Seamus spat out, his Irish brogue thick when triggered.

“Did Hermione ask for you? No, she didn’t.” Pansy retorted, “She asked for Neville for a reason.” Then she directed her eyes at her courting wizard. “If you would be so kind as to indulge a lady’s request?” she serenaded with such grace that it was a visible shock to the group.

Playing upon his pureblood upbringing, Neville nodded and excused himself despite the little muttering from Seamus and the scowl from Dean. Harry cued Ginny and the twins that everything was fine, and given the clever nature of Fred and George, they knew a fake fight when they “saw” it, for they’d been thoroughly filled in by Ginny by the time Harry arrived at the table.

“It’s fine Dean.” George said, “Obviously, Hermione values Neville’s feelings and wants to make amends.”

“Not like you and Seamus really give her a chance to ever explain herself.” Fred added.

The two sets of boys stared each other down for a few beats before breaking contact and returning to their work. Ginny arched a ginger eyebrow at Harry with the vague understanding that he knew more than what he was alluding to and that whatever happened in class happened for a reason. Poor Harry, there was always some sort of chaos in his life.

Draco had to refrain from hopping out of his seat and following the trio as they left the Great Hall, he just had to trust that Pansy and Neville would be enough to deter any further attacks from lurking Slytherins. And that they wouldn’t be too long. Luckily for him, Neville was quite susceptible to the feminine charm and it didn’t take much for Pansy’s flirting and Hermione’s sincere apology to convince him that all was still well between her and Harry, although she couldn’t go into details as to why they had the fake fight.

Bless Neville and his honest to goodness faith in those he called a friend, he didn’t push for an explanation as to why when she said they were “working on something” which he knew was code for “this shit includes Voldemort and/or Death Eaters or someone else after Harry, again” and knew it would be revealed in time when necessary. 

Pansy on the other hand, was unaware of such secret talk between Gryffindor comrades and shot her a puzzled look but shelved the question for a more appropriate time and place. That was the mentality of a Slytherin; such confidences were not spoken in hallway exteriors where prying ears could listen.

While the girls rounded the corner with Neville, Draco addressed Blaise without taking his eyes off the entrance. “Oi, you still got any firewhiskey left?”

Blaise pretended to not know whom Draco was addressing until finally the blond turned his head and looked him in the face. “Oh me? Goodness, I thought you were asking one of the ghosts.”

“Enough joking, do you or not?”

Blaise scoffed. “Runs off with Theo and the Chimera for clandestine meetings, starts fake fights in class-for some odd reason-and now he wants my personal stash of booze?” he counted off, “I’d say I’m due a little explanation as to why.”

Draco groaned and ran his hands through his hair, eyes back on the entrance. The girls hadn’t returned yet…

“Mate, there is some stuff that I just can’t talk about.”

“Oh, but you and Theo can?”

“Hey, it kinda involves me too, a’ight?” Theo defended hotly.

“Kinda?” He arched a brow. “But not fully? But moreso than I?”

“Yes.” Theo replied flatly.

Blaise seemed taken aback by the abrupt singular answer. “Oh.” He sighed and then shrugged. “Well, if it means that much to you, yeah, I got some left. Stashed away of course.”

“D’ya mind getting it?” Draco asked, suddenly relieved when the girls re-entered the Great Hall. Although it piqued his curiosity that Hermione was returning to the Gryffindor table.

“Like, now?”

“Yes Blaise. Now.”

“Merlin Malfoy, is Granger driving you to drink already?” he joked.

Inhaling the last strand of patience he possesses, Draco turns to his sassy and decidedly unhelpful friend with teeth bared. “Just. Get. It.” He growled, a second later adding, “Please.”

Well that did it. Blaise knew he wasn’t fucking around when he said Please-especially when he didn’t have to. So he pushed out of his spot on the bench and acquiesced his friends’ request. After his departure Theo leaned over and inquired as to what he could possibly want with firewhiskey during the afternoon.

“Not for me, but Potter.” Draco explained. “He’s already struggling.”

Theo directed his attention to the Gryffindor table, where a little dispute over Hermione and Pansy joining Ginny’s side of the table, with Neville taking residence on Pansy’s other side rather the seat he was previously occupying. 

“Slytherins aren’t welcomed here.” Dean pointed out very matter-of-factly.

“Who died and made you Godric Gryffindor?” Ginny snapped.

“Oh come on Gin, it’s always been like that.” He said, as if it needed any further clarification.

“Hermione being Slytherin doesn’t automatically taint her with evil intentions. Have you forgotten the Hat considered me for Slytherin?” Harry pointed out, trying hard to reel in the deep red rage that had been released earlier.

“That’s one thing, you didn’t actually end up in there.” Seamus stated. “And this resorting just has us all trying to figure out what it means. I mean, she’s probably always been a Slytherin underneath it all the whole time.”

“Would you two listen to yourselves?” Neville interjected. “Merlin’s buttocks! You’re behaving as if she’s a spy or something. She’s been one of us since day one, and at least some of us can look past mascot badges and house colors and still see the person underneath.”

Even the twins looked at Seamus and Dean with scrutiny. “You guys are all in the same year, you’re gonna see each other year after year, you might as well get used to this.” one said.

“And not behave like an act of war has been declared.” The other continued.

“Frankly, what does it even matter anyway?” Hermine addressed the group. “It’s all just colors and mascots and similar traits. By design, our days at this school are determined. Who our rivals are, what’s expected of us…it’s a load of hogwash. We’re allowed to change our perspective on life, the moral code within us, and who we consider a friend.”

Harry stood up abruptly. “I think Hermione was right to do what she did, and maybe it was that in itself that made her Slytherin, but that doesn’t matter because you two did a fine job of never supporting her when she was Gryffindor.”

He grabbed his bag and shoved away from the table, storming out of the Great Hall, leaving the Gryffindors to visibly blame each other in their stunned silence.

“Let’s go, it’s clear Dean is in charge around here.” Ginny sneered, grabbing her bag and spinning on her heel, with Hermione right along with her. Neville held out his hand to Pansy-daring Dean and Seamus to say something about it-as he assisted her up and looked over to the twins. “My bag mates?” he asked.

Fred and George gathered up his papers and quill and slid the satchel along the bench for him, which he deftly plucked up and escorted Pansy right along. Sharing a silent glance at each other, the twins then gathered up their stuff and left the two Fourth Years’ with all the table they could want, now that there wasn’t anyone left to argue with.

“Wow, that was a bold movement.” Theo remarked as he and Draco got to their feet. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say we just earned some Gryffindor sympathizers.” 

Draco pressed a hand to Theo’s shoulder, stilling him. “Stay and wait for Blaise, would ya? Don’t need him feeling like he’s missing out again. I’ll Patronus you when I know where they’re all off to.”

Theo nodded. “Yeah, he did seem miffed. Crack on.” He waved Draco off to follow the bold group.  
…………………………

Blaise was no stranger to secrets. He learned many from his mother’s line of husbands’, each one thinking that if they entrusted the son they’d get closer to winning the prize. In the end though, the illustrious Italian witch always came out on top, another husband in the ground under mysterious circumstances. They were getting harder to be believable now, for surely, how unlucky in love could one woman be? 

So Draco was asking for firewhiskey without giving him a reason, having little “meetings” with Potter, Granger and Nott that was obviously on a need-to-know basis that he had not been granted success to that exclusive little club. No matter, let him have his secrets, he had his own too.

He’d secured the flask that he had tucked away from the party a few weeks back-oh what a fun night that was! Seeing Gryffindor’s Golden Girl drunk off her petite ass and running her mouth with trash talk that she later proved she could back up. It had been a most enlightening evening. He and Theo barely had to do anything to nudge Draco into her direction, it was evident their boy was smitten beyond saving.

After he’d sent her off with Potter he reverted back into a sourpuss and drank his mood away, only to wake up as the biggest diva on Scottish soil. Everything seemed to snowball into an avalanche right after that. The days bled together as those two had become practically joined at the hip, sneaking off together thinking they were being so clever. And just who were they fooling with that tutoring session he absolutely insisted on acting as security detail to? Sure, there were some Slytherins who needed the help-and they would remain nameless-but tossing out that third year nobody who flipped her skirt? He’s lucky that’s all Draco did to him. Now that he’d seen just how far the dragon was willing to go to protect her.

He had to give credit where it was due; the muggleborn bird was no ordinary witch. What she lacked in the fashion department though, that could be improved upon. Oh what a sight it would be to just see Draco’s face after dolling up his lady with some decent hair product and the right dress. He’d die and ascend and come back to life all in the span of a second. Priceless. She’d put just enough effort in herself that evening with the floral print dress and cardigan, downright innocent looking-which was now totally debatable now.

It was all too apparent that he’d not come back to the dorm last night, which could mean there was only place he had slept, and with whom.

The proud pureblood would never resist a moment to brag about being the first of them to lose their virginity-ha! if only he knew-or being the one to deflower a witch, but something told Blaise that hadn’t been the case. Or, he was actually honoring his witch by being silent, or even yet, actually truly honoring his witch and refraining-which was a huge thing for Draco to do, given how that boy was more often than not fueled by his impulses. 

He couldn’t be needing the firewhiskey…for that…could he? Nah, that’s not his style. He was incredibly uncomfortable with Granger getting as legless as she did. Hence why he got her out of the party so promptly. Well, whatever he wanted it for, it was all he was gonna get.

He stopped short when he approached the Great Hall and noticed a considerable lack of Gryffindors at their table, as well as certain Slytherins, only Theo remaining behind for him. Oh how kind… What the hell had he missed? Again?

“Bloody hell Theo…five minutes…” he sighed.  
………………………..

For once, it wasn’t to tease or mock him that Draco chased down Potter. He knew a volcano when he saw it, and he knew Harry was feeling it, now that the initial cork had had been popped off that bottle. Hermione was right, the next time Harry blew, he might not be able to control himself and the results could be disastrous. Trying to remove himself from the situation was a solution that worked for now, but wouldn’t back when he was in the dorm with his roommates, all against him for standing his friendship with Hermione.

“Potter! Wait!” he called, finding themselves in the outdoor corridor where he’d first run into him and Theo in their game of Snitch-Chase. 

“No Malfoy, leave me alone.” He grumbled, storming along.

“I’ll stun you if I have to, stop.” Draco ordered. “I know what you’re going through.”

Sure enough, Harry stopped, but not due to the threat. “Oh do you?” he sarcastically replied as he turned to meet the blond. “I daresay I haven’t seen your lily white ass sit at any other table nor had some of your best mates turn on you for sticking up for someone.”

Draco paused. “Alright, true, but that’s not what I was referring to. I meant what you’re feeling right now. The rage. The need to hit something and scream. You wanted to throttle Dean just like you did Weasley, but you know you won’t be able to hold yourself back, so that’s why you left. That’s what I know.”

“And so what of it?” Harry snapped. “You got friends that are standing beside you, even watching over Hermione. What do you think I’m going through night after night?”

Draco looked around, this area was too open. But it didn’t seem like Harry would be willing to find a more secluded spot, so he cast a silencing charm. “I’m going to be real with you Potter, not all’s well down there. There’s only six of us in comparison to whole House standing in the way between them and her. She’s not to wander even to the loo by herself, there’s always got to be one of us nearby. A second’s oversight…” he trailed off, not even wanting to revisit that terrible scene from last night. “It’s gonna take time before everyone eventually gets over it, until then, she’s barely a step away from danger.”

“I want to throttle the lot of them. Every time I see their faces.” His nostrils flared with the memory of satisfyingly breaking Crabbe’s nose with the heel of his shoe. “I’m constantly on edge, wondering who’s gonna be next to try something. So yeah, pretty sure I know how you feel.”

“Oh lovely, another thing we can bond over.” Harry tossed out with rolled eyes and a flippant wave of his hand. “Have you ever strangled Theo into unconsciousness?”

“No, but it’s bound to happen one of these days.” Draco joked, trying to make light of today’s catastrophe. “I don’t know how much of that whole scene you were around for, but she was frantic with the thought you might’ve actually killed that git. She knew immediately what to do, dragged me right along into it-for fuck sake I actually helped save his damn life!-and then she got us all out of there. She put aside whatever she feels for the Weasel just to make sure you didn’t get in trouble. Whatever the hell CPR is, it did the trick.”

“I…don’t recall.” He said, racking his brain.

“Yeah, she said you were in shock. A limp noodle. I’m not gonna pretend I know your life, but obviously, it’s pretty shit. And I don’t expect you to even remotely care about mine; I just don’t want her to know about it. Whatever things the Weasel said to make you snap, given that we were only gone a few minutes, that’s got to be heavy. I’ve barely made you that raving mad at me and that was just with basic taunts to rile you up. Never would’ve known we had more in common under the surface.”

“If my parents were alive…” But the sentence didn’t need to be finished.

“Yeah, I know.” Draco said solemnly. He’d be a totally different wizard if they were. “But I have a little solution. If you’ll excuse me.” He turned and cleared his throat, thought of another happy though and called forth his Patronus. His corporeal peacock appeared immediately. Thoughts of Hermione always made it appear so quickly. “Message for Theo: we’re in the outdoor corridor.”

It dissolved into a silver stream and shot off as he undid the silence charm. Luckily Theo and Blaise weren’t too far away and arrived quickly after the message. Draco gave Harry and Blaise a proper introduction to each other. “He’s on the Hermione Protection Squad. You can trust him with her.”

“If you three are here, who’s with her now?” Harry asked.

“Pansy.” All three Slytherin boys answered.

“I got so caught up in my frustration that I didn’t even bother seeing her off.” He sighed with guilt.

Draco motioned for the flask. He twisted the cap and handed it to Harry. “Take a sip; it’ll calm your nerves.”

Blaise made a silent ‘ah, that’s what he needed it for’ AH shape with his mouth for a second, nodding to himself. His boy was just full of surprises lately. Courting Granger and befriending Potter? What next, becoming McGonagall’s favorite?

“No offense, but I don’t drink.” Harry dithered, holding the offered receptacle with wariness.

“No offense, but I really don’t care.” Draco retorted. “Take a bloody sip and don’t spill, it’s good quality, obviously.”

“This is really your big solution?” Theo scrunched his brows at his friend.

“No, not a big solution, just a solution.” Draco clarified. “A few sips and you’ll be right as rain.” He motioned Harry with his hand. “Hurry before someone sees you with the bloody thing!” he whisper-shouted.

“Fine! Jeez!” Harry grumbled, tipping the canister back and sipping gingerly, feeling the burn tear down his virgin throat, bringing tears to his eyes but he soldiered on. He coughed and pounded his chest for a few moments but it pacified the trio.

“Hell, we didn’t even have to persuade Hermione; she just took the damn thing and guzzled. It was funny as hell.” Blaise laughed, trying to cover his mouth and keep his arms crossed.

Harry’s throat felt as if a dragon had pissed down it, and that was from a little sip. Hermione chugged this? Holy hell girl, you never do anything half-arsed do ya?

“Swell.” He whispered in a hoarse voice that was strained beyond its years, if only for the moment. The warmth though, was immediate. All encompassing. From the center of his chest, up this throat, and into his brain, he felt the embrace of the whiskey’s liquid touch. It certainly seemed to induce a calming effect much like a Calming Draught without having to explain to the Medi-Witch as to why he’d need one.

Oh I just strangled my former best mate almost to death; no big deal is all…

Draco took Harry’s moment of gathering composure to repossess the flask and twist the cap back on. “Can’t have you walking ‘round like Moody with this.” He said, tucking it away into his bag. “How d’ya feel?”

“Better, oddly.” The raven-haired boy replied honestly. “Not really surprised you guys have that. Pretty sure Snape doesn’t issue thorough inspections.”

The Slytherins laughed at that.

“No seriously, you try having Percy “the Perfectionist” Weasley as Gryffindor Prefect. He’s more of a stickler for rules than Hermione.”

“I would’ve thought that impossible until recently.” Theodore joked with a wiggle of his eyebrows towards Draco-who flushed and turned away to overlook the courtyard.

“Speaking of our Golden Girl, just where did she and Pansy run off to?” Blaise voiced the general group’s concern. 

“Oh, they’re over there, across the way.” Harry pointed, seeing the signature hair of both girls, given that they joined also by Neville who towered over both by half a foot. The three seemed engaged in quite the conversation, with the surprising addition of Ginny popping up in a moment of excitement and laughter. The little redhead wielded a wicked Bat-Bogey hex that she wasn’t afraid to use, and had on occasion.

They trailed down the length of the corridor and entered the courtyard, a sense of déjà vu overcoming Draco as he recalled walking this same path up to Hermione just a week ago, sitting on a bench bathed in sunlight, looking every bit like something out of a dream. Fred and George were tossing a quaffle back and forth between them, stopping the quartet once they caught sight and invited them to make teams.

Realizing that Hermione had an excellent trio of bodyguards, the boys broke off into teams; Harry and Theo joining Fred, Draco and Blaise going to George’s side. School bags dumped on the grass, robes tossed aside and all problems were momentarily forgotten as the six boys engaged in a made up game that honestly didn’t matter on points or technique, just having fun and throwing harmless insults and half-hearted tackles.

Hermione stopped, causing a ripple effect among her group, who in turn halted and made an audience of the impromptu teams. She couldn’t help but drink in the sight of Draco Malfoy in action, completely unaware of her secret stalking; he wasn’t trying to show off with fancy moves but was really getting into it, throwing himself against a Weasley like a common rugby player.

“You might want to wipe your lip.” Ginny teased.

Hermione smirked. If Draco had spent years watching her, surely she could have just a few minutes?  
…………………….

Ron had been discharged from the Infirmary shortly after his final spat with Harry, which had thankfully gone unheard, for neither he nor Harry wanted to have to explain anything to any authority figure. It was just as well as they cut their ties and go about their separate ways. Anticlimactic as it was, he felt it was best. After all, if they had a knockdown, drag out in front of witnesses it would only be more fodder for the papers to report on and more fame for the Prat-Who-Lived and that was the last thing he wanted. More bloody fame for Harry bleeding Potter for his fans to eat up.

As soon as he stood in the doorway of the Great Hall he knew there’d be another clash. It didn’t help that two Slytherin Bitches were at his table, pulling Neville away, no doubt plucking the weakest from the pride to lure into their good graces. Well, good riddance, what good was Neville to Gryffindor anyway? He should’ve been sorted into Hufflepuff their first day. After all, he was Professor Sprout’s little plant loving darling. Let him be seduced by the snakes.

He stormed off in a huff, marching his way up to the Gryffindor tower. At least he wouldn’t be seeing Harry in there any time soon. Not until curfew if he could help it, and then they’d just have to pretend they weren’t sleeping five feet away from each other. Oh wouldn’t it be something if Harry went to Dumbledore and McGonagall and Snape and begged to be let into Slytherin? Oh it’d just be the luck of the universe that their own little celebrity wanted to be resorted and by all the stars in the sky and the mutterings of Trelawney they’d all bow their heads and fall over themselves to fulfill the prophecy of The Chosen One.

Such was the dark cloud over his head when he entered the common room that he didn’t acknowledge those that were present. Not until the telltale nickname in the octave it was screeched from pulled him into the now.

“Won-Won oh darling!” Lavender cried, rushing up to meet him with dramatic arms thrown around his neck and a pouty kiss sucked on his cheek in greeting.

“Lav…” was all he could utter.

“I was soooo worried when I heard! Are you sure you don’t remember anything? Who do you think did it? Who do you suspect?” she rapidly fired off questions. Good grief, did she even want an answer to any of them? She’d be a terrible interrogator for the Auror Division. There was one sure way to shut her up though.

He grabbed her faced and locked his lips onto hers, dipping his tongue in for extra measure just so she could grab another breath to fire off more questions. Like a charm, she succumbed with an adoring moan and clung to him. He wondered what it would like having Hermione in his arms instead, how she would react to his touch, how she’d return the affections. Since she was obviously doing such things with Malfoy, leaving marks with no regard for who could see them. Had she already given herself to him like Lavender had, or was she still being a tease and only letting him get close?

Just the thought of Malfoy getting frustrated that he couldn’t finished what she started was enough for him to chuckle mid-kiss, making Lavender believe he was all the happier to have her affections.

“You wanna get out of here?” she whispered, indicating the closet in which they reserved for their more intimate encounters.

Actually, that didn’t sound like a bad idea. He could certainly use the release in tension. “Meet you there in a minute.” He whispered back, then disengaged his hold on her and exited the common room with a half-hearted wave to their fellow housemates who were more focused on their homework to give much notice.

“Sorry Par, Ron needs me.” She said, scooping up her homework and shoving it back into her bag. Her friend just shot her a ‘Yeah I know’ look because this certainly was not the first time, nor would it be the last if knew those two. She waved Lavender off without a second glance and went back to her homework so she could give it to the strawberry blonde to copy for herself. After all, that’s what friends were for.

Lavender had already undone her necktie and top two buttons when she was scribbling away at her homework, her hair pulled up in two pigtails so she didn’t need to discard anything else that would only hinder Ron’s hands getting to places. They had found-or rather, he had pointed out an old broom closet for them to have their privacy in that was only down the hall from their dorms. He’d seen it back on those nights he and Harry were secretly stalking Professors Snape and Quirrell and Lockhart when Harry wasn’t averse to sharing the Map with him.

As soon as she approached the door of little insignificance and closed it behind her she felt his hands grab her close and press her to the wall. They always had a silencing spell cast, but he more often than not demanded that she say as quiet as possible when they did this. They also were in near darkness, after how awkward things were the first time, when they had light in order to see what they were doing. They knew enough of each other’s bodies by now, they didn’t need the bright light cast from a lumos but she wasn’t complaining when she got to share in these stolen secret moments that she knew he’d never had with Hermione.

She was his first as he was hers. They were special. They were in love.

It wouldn’t be too long until they could have the entire summer to themselves, she’d get to introduce him to her parents, and he’d do the same. They’d have nights of little responsibility and curfew and the freedom to stay by each other’s side through the whole night. After all, there was only so much room in a closet, and only one way they joined their bodies although she was aware there were far more after overhearing some of the older girls talk.

Given what he went through today, he was a tad rougher than usual. She chalked it up to building a passion that he was releasing, glad that he was no worse for wear and back in her arms. He grabbed her throat and gave it just enough of a squeeze that it caught her off guard before he’d sunk his teeth into her, painfully.

“Oww! Ron, that hurt!” she whined as they continued grinding into each other.

“Oh calm down, it’s just a nibble.” He admonished.

“It. Still. Hurt.” She gritted as he thrust into her. They panted and huffed hot air as the rush subsided and they finally felt the release they had built. Quick scourgify spells took care of the initial mess they made; there was only so much it would cover as they rebuttoned shirts and adjusted knickers and zippers. She leaned into him for an after coitus cuddle, a small indulgence given the closed quarters and short spans of time they could go unnoticed. “I missed you all week. I wish I could’ve gone home with you.”

“Right.” He scoffed. “And hear nothing else but my parents complain about my misbehavior? Hardly the timing to bring a girlfriend into.”

“Well, we have all summer for that.” She said brightly. “Once school is out and there’s no more Slytherin drama to get involved in we’ll have all the time to do as we want.”

He patted the top of her head. “We’ll see love.” Frankly, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to continue this over the summer, but considering he’d just checked Potter off his list, maybe he could devote more time to being with Lavender. Not having to shag in a closet would be nice for a change.  
………………………..

Luna had come to the courtyard in search of the mushrooms that were known to grow in the shade of the junction between the outdoor corridor and another castle wall, where it received little sunlight and quite the dousing from the collected rain that often pooled the in area when she’d spied the quaffle tossing sextet that was entertaining her fellow friends Ginny, Hermione, Neville and his witch Pansy.

Naturally she was drawn in, but only after procuring her meager samples. Rain was in works, another day or two and it would be here. With them safely tucked away she joined the quartet in their amused observation of the game, which by now, they had made themselves known by choosing to cheer. Though, for who particularly or which team was debatable as Hermione of course wanted both her best friend and her boyfriend to win. Although, the day of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy actually being on the same team was soon approaching.

Part of her frowned at the thought. It was going to take an extraordinary event in order for them to fully come together, and their shared bond with Hermione was the only thing strong enough for them to unite. 

She looked at her frizzy haired friend in green robes-which she had to admit looked lovely on her-and nibbled her lip. Something was going to happen to her. Something far more darker and dangerous than what she’d already been put through, something that she couldn’t hide behind a smile and a buttoned up shirt. Luna only wished she had a better sense of what it was; all she could see was a splash of silver and eyes of blue.  
………………………..


	45. Patronus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco stirs the hornet’s nest by having Harry join the Slytherin table for dinner. McGonagall insists that all students practice their Patronus in order to discover who sent the one to Madam Pomfrey. Now what are they going to do?

After that sweat inducing game of quaffle-toss, the six boys headed towards the closest locker room, just so happening to be the Gryffindor one. At first the Slytherin trio was ready to bow out towards their own, despite the distance it was when Harry told them it was fine, they could use the showers they had. There wasn’t anyone else around to complain, and it wasn’t like it was a specific rule in the Hogwarts Student Guidebook.

“Have you even read the damn thing?” Draco laughed, slipping his shirt off.

Harry laughed. “Nah, skimmed over it but leave it to Hermione to nearly have every bit memorized.” His voice caught in his throat though, at the sight of day old bruises on the boy’s pale skin. “Wha…?”

Draco looked down, caught by surprise. “Oh that, yeah…like I said, things got out of hand the other day.”

“Maybe we should take Hermione’s offer and learn some moves. You seem to need it.”

“Oh piss off, I can handle my own.” scoffing at the very idea, Draco stepped into the shower stall and let the hot water beat down on him. Although, it would be interesting to learn some of the moves he’d seen her employ.

After showering and avoiding the towel-whipping from the twins, scourgifying their clothes into something passable to wear without grossing out half of the Great Hall, Draco decided to extend the same curtesy to Harry.

“Sit at Slytherin tonight.” He said suddenly, stopping Blaise and Theo in their tracks after Fred and George stopped horsing around and got their clothes back on.

“Whoa, you trying to start a riot?” Theo asked incredulously.

“No,” the Slytherin Prince replied. “But I do want to test a theory. And, don’t tell Hermione. Her reaction needs to be genuine.”

Harry wrinkled his brow. “I dunno, that sounds suspicious.”

“Well it was your brilliant idea to start that fake fight with her which every-bloody-body saw, so naturally, you want to set things right and apologize, right? Then come to our table and throw yourself on Godric’s sword and make nice, then naturally, she’ll invite you to join us.” He stated matter-of-factly.

“It’s unnerving how you know Hermione so well, but also to have the nerve to think you know her well enough to predict her reactions.” Harry replied with a wary eye on his former nemesis.

“Look, I wanna test a theory, just do it ‘right?”

“Oh well since you asked so nicely.”

Sensing the tension start to build Theo interjected. “What’s the theory?”

“I’ll let you know afterwards.” Draco answered without breaking eye contact with Harry.

“That’s not how testing your hypothesis works, but fine, have it your way.” Harry sighed. After all, had he not expressed some empathy over his current state of mind and shared a nip of firewhiskey and indulged in a friendly game with two other Gryffindors? Perhaps there was more to Draco Malfoy than he initially thought.

……………………….

“Minerva.” Professor Snape greeted curtly as they happen to enter the hall at almost the same moment.

“Ah Severus, dour as ever I see.” She replied with a slight purr.

“Tell me, are Gryffindors prone to bringing about as many near-death experiences upon themselves as possible or we just so blessed with a particularly special brand of them this decade?”

The old Scottish woman chortled despite herself. Oh Severus honey, you have no idea, do you? Even she wasn’t sure of the tally that certain trio had racked up over their years here. She was certain no professor ever would know the true number if they could help it.

“I heard how just a little bit of sunlight caused quite the ruckus down there….” she drawled as if the all-out brawl was nothing more than a slap fight between the Weasley twins.  
“Ruckus?” he barked. “I was accosted by my own students out for blood! You and Dumbledore sure do have a full grown dragon’s worth of confidence in that bloody Gryffindor!” he growled in a low tone so as not to be overheard. “Bloody wonder how she managed to convince the two of you to lent her a Time Turner for last year….I swear, the only teen I know with the power of actual time control in her hands and she uses it for more bloody schoolwork!”

After her transfer to his House, Snape had been given her personal file, to which he was privy to all her profile information and previous years achievements-including the very secret fact that she had been entrusted with a Time Turner at the tender age of 14. Bloody hell, what teenager with time control uses it for more Merlin-be-dammed lessons?  
“That alone should be enough to convince you that Miss Granger is not your average witch, nor average student. She will do wonders for the Wizarding World upon graduation.”

He rolled his eyes. “And now she’s my responsibility. Wonderful.”  
………………………….

A cough from behind disrupted Hermione’s mind that had previously stopped functioning at the sight and scent of a freshly showered Draco Malfoy sitting next to her at dinner. It took her a moment to register the sound, looking around side to side before it dawned on her to check over her own shoulder. Needless to say, she was genuinely surprised it was Harry, given how the majority of the table was eyeing him.

“Oh Harry!’ she exclaimed. “Jesus, you startled me.”

Exactly how Draco predicted it.

“Yeah, I figured as much when you nearly jumped out of your seat.” He chuckled. “Uh hey, look, I just wanna say I’m sorry for starting up shit in class today.”

“Oh?” her mind began to wander. Ah yes, the fake argument to distract Moody from Draco. Before the whole throttling incident. “Oh.” She nodded. Why did this feel odd? Surely Harry didn’t feel the need to apologize for that, they knew it was a ruse, even in the thick of it. “Well that was big of you Harry, thank you.”

“Still friends?” he asked. Now she knew something was up.

She chuckled. “Of course, you big idiot.” she playfully swatted his arm. “In fact, why don’t you join us for dinner?” She shot Draco a glance that told him she wasn’t buying his little game. She scooted away from Draco and patted the space she’d just made-clearly something neither boy expected, now that their bluff had been called-but it was in part, what Draco had wanted, so he might as well play along.

“That’s kind of you…” he hesitated, eyes dancing between the two of them.

“Well go on then, he won’t bite. Will you Draco?” she teased with the tiniest hint of evil in her voice.

“I might bite someone else. Later.” He responded, enjoying the snickers that bubbled up from the onlookers.

“I think I just lost my appetite…” Harry groaned.

“Sit.” Both Hermione and Draco commanded. Oh the jig was so up. Sending a silent prayer up above, Harry plopped himself in between the couple and kept his eyes strictly on the plate that appeared in front of him, loaded with the Slytherin dinner of the evening. Why me? he sighed as he started to dig into his Sheppard’s pie as if it was the best meal of his life.

As if on cue, murmurs and glares filled the air, and several Slytherins scooted themselves further away from the little nest Draco had surrounding his immediate person.  
Interesting response…

Minerva and Severus shared a confused but silent glance, wondering just what new strange alliance was being built.

All the while, Ron glowered and growled, taking little comfort with the girl on his arm and the two boys that were steadfastly on his side, while his older brothers made a significant shift away from him and his little sister dined at the Ravenclaw table with her looney friend.

Colin whipped out his camera and snapped a semi-useable shot of Draco and Harry, eating side by side. The Slytherin table was where the action was this year!  
…………………………….

“Alright, what the hell was that about Draco Lucius Malfoy?”

Oh, the full name? Someone was certainly in trouble.

The three boys-or rather, the two that were not Theodore-looked a little flushed at being called out with motherlike authority from their tiny yet mighty little witch. The lab was warded and silenced, secure enough for Hermione to loudly demand answers from a chagrinned duo that she knew all too well capable of plotting something so brazen without her. Oh the irony was not lost on her there.

“Why are you automatically blaming me?” Draco huffed with ever the pity-me eyes.

“To be fair, it was your plan.” Theo added.

“Traitor.” Draco sneered at his buddy. He turned back to Hermione. “Well, if Her Highness must know, I was conducting an experiment.”

The three stood in silence. He hadn’t explained a damn thing.

He sighed dramatically. “I was gauging everyone’s reaction to having Potter at the table. To see if anyone would be stupid enough to try anything, say anything. No one threw a jinx or whispered an insult. Now, it might just be a fluke, or they actually fear repercussion for doing anything to Gryffindor’s Golden Boy. We might be able to use that to our advantage.”

“And you couldn’t share that with me?” Harry demanded. “Just throwing my neck out there for the hell of it?”

“I would’ve jumped in if that were so-” Draco tried to defend but was harshly shot down.

“HOW COULD YOU DO SOMETHING SO IDIOTIC?” Hermione bellowed. “Yes, I know I slipped up with the Map but at least I wasn’t putting somebody else in danger!” she stomped up to him with all the fury of a raging storm and poked a finger into his chest-after all, she really felt guilty about hitting him and promised herself to not let that be her default response with him-and pressed it hard enough to make him take a step back. “Draco! We’re supposed to be a team! Looking out for each other, not shoving someone else under the bus for the ‘maybe’ effect! And why not tell me? Why was my reaction to this so paramount?”

Harry and Theo gave him the look that was evident; they were on Hermione’s side on this.

“Because-and do not get angry with me for being honest-you wear your emotions on your sleeve.” He answered. “When you’re playing a role, working in the moment, you’re a great actress, but when it comes to you, and I mean you in the sense of generality, you’re an open book.”

She had lowered herself back onto her heels, the finger retracting in pressure but still remaining on his chest.

“I didn’t want the others to think you’d called on Potter for backup because of what happened yesterday.”

Oh. That. The situation that she had sworn Draco and Theo to not tell Harry of. Which apparently, they had so far honored. The timing of which, everyone would think that was exactly what he was there for had she not been surprised by his approach and apology. Clever little dragon…

“I see.” she replied in a small voice. She looked over their two mates. “And you honestly didn’t know?” They both shook their heads. “Guys, I thought we agreed on no more solo spur-of-the-moment plans? What if I hadn’t played along? What then?”

“Oh come on, I knew-” but Draco chose wisely to not finish that response with the glowing embers of his girlfriends’ eyes boring into him. “You’re right; I just made a lucky guess. I wanted you to invite him to sit with us. And you certainly caught on.”

“I do not like being taken for a fool Malfoy.” She stated darkly. He knew that when she referred to him by surname that he was on thin ice.

“I never took you for one. I just know you well enough to gauge a correct reaction. Even Harry said so.”

Harry’s eyes went wide as Draco inadvertently threw him under the bus. But Hermione merely sighed. Sometimes even smart boys were idiots. Were boyfriends even worth the trouble? Half the time all they seemed to do was created headaches.

She pulled her hand away from Draco and rubbed her forehead. “I give up.” It took a moment before the trio released that she meant about the current subject at hand and not the mission in general. Slumping into the stool at the table she went over her checklist on the clipboard about the samples and what she was currently testing.

“Oh Draco, could I see the Map please?” she asked.

He retrieved it from his school bag. After opening it and laying it flat she conjured up a simple disillusionment charm to reveal a well thought out image of the constellation Draco.

“Original.” He deadpanned. 

“Your idea, might as well play to your ego.” She snickered. “Come on, any other constellation and no one would believe you’d risk getting in trouble in another class for working on it.” It easily folded back up and went into her bag as planned.

“Touché.” He conceded, knowing that she’d read him just as much as he had done earlier with her.

“This weekend I’d like to go over the basics of training. Mind you, I’m forgoing my usual routine of studying in the library so I’d like a little consideration and effort from you lot.”

“Yes ma’am.” Theo saluted. 

“Suck up.” Harry teased at him.

“Damn straight. I’m not about to get on her bad side.” He then hooked his thumb over at their pale haired comrade. “Someone still hasn’t learned that lesson.”

“I heard that.” Draco snapped as he worked at Hermione’s side with their samples and the Pepper-Up potion brew. Harry and Theo set to work on their homework in the meantime.

Later that evening Harry squeezed in just before curfew and begrudgingly headed to the boy’s dorm. The atmosphere was icy-and not from any chilling charms-with the death glare from Ron when their eyes met and the obvious discomfort from Dean and Seamus. He couldn’t say whether they knew about what transpired, nor did he really care since they’d obviously chosen to back Ron along the whole while he and Hermione clashed. Only Neville seemed to be a loyal companion, and while not quick to draw his wand, his steadfastness was far more welcomed. 

He lay down once the lights were out and sighed wearily. The day had been one of the emotionally draining he’d had since coming to Hogwarts-and that was something. He’d faced a troll in the girl’s bathroom in his first year with less turmoil weighing on him than this. He’d faced the possessed body of Professor Quirrell and overcome the presence of Voldemort with fewer aches in his chest than what Ron had caused. He’d been bitten by a goddamned basilisk and nearly died with more concern for his own life in comparison to nearly throttling the one out of Ronald Weasley. 

It scared him that he could be brought to such a dark place and not realize it. He honestly didn’t even remember grabbing Ron by the throat and squeezing so hard that the other boy flopped and struggled and gasped until he suddenly wasn’t-not that he even registered when it occurred-and that terrified him. His whole life could’ve changed today at the drop of a hat had Hermione not been so diligent on finding him and knowing exactly what to do.

Once again, he owed his life to that girl.

For all the times she’d pulled his ass out of the fire, he knew one day he’d have to return the favor. And the day that Hermione Granger needed Harry Potter was going to be a bleak day indeed.  
………………………..

FRIDAY April 14, 1995

As all students gathered into the Great Hall for breakfast, receiving their mail and copies of the newspapers, their usual routine was interrupted by an announcement from their headmaster.

“Yesterday there was an attack on one of our students,” Dumbledore said plainly, looking around from the Gryffindor table straight to the Slytherin one, “and a Good Samaritan sent a Patronus to Madam Pomfrey to inform of her such. Granted, it is of course our wish that the Good Samaritan would come forward, but it is believed this person might hold information as to what happened. Therefore, a change in classes is set as all Fourth and Third Years are to report to Defense class” at this there was a variable groan of disdain, “instead of your scheduled Charms lesson. Professors Flitwick, McGonagall, Moody, and Madam Pomfrey will be in attendance to teach everyone the spell and help those struggling with it.”

An eruption of confusion and protest followed as suddenly everyone was looking around at who could’ve done such a thing. And to whom the target was, for Dumbledore had left that little nugget out. Given that Charms wasn’t scheduled until midday, it was apparently the hopes of the staff that the Good Samaritan would still come forward and prevent the class switch-up.

Theo looked positively sick to his stomach, and Hermione gingerly squeezed his hand under the table. “I’m so sorry Theo…I didn’t know it’d go this far.”

“Considering all the attacks aimed at you recently, I think we should’ve seen this coming. They’re cracking down on things like this.” Draco whispered as he leaned over to her.

“Guys…what do I do?” Theo panically whispered. “Madam Pomfrey will identify my Patronus in a heartbeat.”

“Just pretend you can’t do it.” Draco stated.

“Half of Slytherin knows what it looks like!” Theo whisper-shouted.

“Guys, just calm down before we draw attention.” Hermione stated. “What we have on our side is the element of surprise. No professor knows you’ve made one and Slytherins are well-known for struggling with this particular spell, heaven knows why.”

“Besides, there’s always the chance that someone else has one just like yours…” Draco offered up weakly. “Right?” he turned to Hermione. 

She nodded. “There’s a list of all the creatures documented over the centuries in the Summoning Charms chapter, right next to the famous wizards and witches who conjured them, and the rare times in which their Patronus changed too.”

“Changed?” both boys replied in unison.

“Like I said, rare cases, but mainly when two people fall in love. As their Happy Thought tends to be that of their spouse so the Patronus takes the shape that represents their beloved. Harry’s parents, they had that. A doe and a stag.”

“No kidding?” the brunet said, clearly shocked by the news. “Wow, they must’ve really been something.”

“How’d you find that out?” Draco asked.

“Professor Lupin told me.” she answered. “He’s become a good friend and is an excellent reference source. Doesn’t get caught up in asking the why so as much as telling me what I’ve turned to him for.”

“Kinda wish we still had him, knowing what we know now.” Draco huffed, tapping his fingernails rhythmically against the tabletop. “I don’t suppose there’s another way someone can get their Patronus to change in the matter of a few hours, is there?” It was a weak joke, they all knew, but at least they had settled their nerves for the time being, especially when a gaggle of younger students approached Hermione for autographs to their copies of the Quibbler, Daily Prophet, and Hogwarts Daily, each sporting a different picture of her as front page news.

She noticed the one for the Daily Prophet was an unflattering first year image of her upon their first week, after being sorted into their houses, all beaming smiles and mass of frizzy hair that she barely could control.

“Mercy…” she sighed. Oh course Skeeter would come at her with this, and if she had the vault to back her up, she’d bet a thousand galleons that article had nothing kind or even halfway honest written about her. But damned if she wasn’t going to read it and find out.

The Quibbler featured her tantalizing makeup job that was suddenly every boy’s favorite picture, as she started receiving charmed notes begging for autographs of it or even honest-to-god kiss marks instead! Pansy had a fit of giggles over that one. Even went so far as to pull out a tube and offer it to her right in the middle of class for the poor sod who requested it. Hermione succinctly refused and crumbled the picture, hearing a cry of anguish from somewhere in the back row.

The group photo that Colin took was second in popularity and had brought some of the adoring fans-that they suddenly accumulated without knowing-to ask of theirs as well. Almost like they had become the number one hit on the billboards list and was suddenly everyone’s favorite band, the younger year students were begging for autographed images they could later brag about when they were older.

All day long she kept getting asked “Who is Oasis?” and if they were honestly that good or were they rubbish, and how long she’d been an avid listener. Like suddenly her choice in Muggle music meant as much as tickets to see The Weird Sisters live. Gaggles of girls asked what she used in her hair, if it was naturally curly or if she’d charmed it that way-honestly, had no one ever seen her on her bad hair days when she was on the verge of cutting it off? And then of course everyone wanted to know if she really could fight like Skeeter claimed she did. Was all that reading in the library research for the proper way to kill someone and make it look like an accident?

“Ohmygod!” she screamed, finally reaching her patience threshold. “For the love of Merlin don’t believe everything you read in the papers, especially by that cockroach Skeeter!”  
She grabbed the nearest copy of the Prophet out of someone’s hands and flipped violently to the inside page where her good standing as a Gryffindor was dragged through the mud with glaring viciousness, most of the so-called facts stretched beyond the realm of believability, except of course, her fear of flying. Oh she just had to get that one right, of all things.

“Is this the shining epitome of a Slytherin? Someone who cannot even take to the sky? As a former Slytherin student I am ashamed of my house and how far the parameters of qualities have sunk if such a student has been accepted. One thing Miss Granger takes pride on is the silly achievement of charming the window to let in sunlight like she’s a House Elf only too pleased to make her housemates accommodations more comfortable. And of course, she went ahead with that little venture without any permission granted by the Headmaster, or her Head of House, or even in a vote from her fellow prefects and peers. One must be led to believe that Granger thinks herself above the rules now that she is the Chimera.”

Hermione grit her teeth in such a volatile manner that would shock and shame her parents had they been present. It was then and there that she vowed she’d make Rita pay. In galleons or in blood, that woman’s life was now going to be at her mercy.

“I’m going to rip that bitch’s head off and drink her damn blood.” She hissed as she shredded the newspaper to the horror of the student she’d grabbed it from. When they reached for the crumbled mess in the rubbish bin she set it aflame and let out a sound that was more animal than human, promptly scarring the child away.

Draco and Theo stood, a little shell-shocked at her sudden bloodlust and ferocity. Her magic was radiating off in waves, almost visible as she struggled to slow her breathing and occlude her rage into another book-one designated just for Rita- and slammed it into the shelf, in a row filled with books that all matched the red bound covers. In her meditations, she’d built up a series of walls, fortified as rows and rows of bookcases, filled with decoy books that matched the one single tome that held the hidden memories and emotions away. To the unexpected wizard using Legilimens on her, they wouldn’t know what to look for.

“Oh goodness…” she whispered to herself once she was in control. She looked over at the guys. “Sorry bout that.” She smiled sheepishly.

“Now I’m beginning to understand how she scared Skeeter outta there so fast.” Theo remarked in a hushed whisper. Draco could only nod. He was marginally aware that he’d brought the journalist’s focus onto her, and hence brought out this dark rage she harbored deep within. It wouldn’t be until much later what had actually awoken in her was brought to light.  
…………………….

Midday had come, and no Good Samaritan had stepped forward, so Patronus Class it was. Instead of Charms with Flitwick, everyone shuffled back into the DADA room, where Moody was crotchety at the sight of his trouble makers from the day previous, and McGonagall stood with the Medi-Witch off in the corner as the women discussed that it was strictly a boy’s voice she’d heard, and the form was a dog. But to make it all fair, they were testing all their students. After all, only the Samaritan knew what they had done, and nothing specific had been mentioned, so everyone suspected each other.

The entirety of the third and fourth years made quite the gathering; so much in fact that it was overwhelming to the classroom designed to only hold a fourth that amount.  
“We will take this to the Great Hall then.” McGonagall announced, swishing her robe and leading the students out like a mother hen with her chicks. As the Great Hall had been vacated the of four grand tables and benches and turned into a ballroom just five months ago, it wasn’t so hard of a task to clear it for some DADA training. More like trying to find the guilty party associated with Ron’s attack…

“Gather in groups of four please.” Naturally, Harry, Theo, Hermione and Draco rushed together. They needed to keep their wits about themselves and have each other’s backs. All Theo had to do was pretend to struggle with a happy thought and not go corporeal. Shouldn’t be too hard to do, considering how stressful the situation was. He hadn’t very many to begin with either. 

Just think of home with your piece of shit excuse of a father. Think of Mum. Think of Greta leaving. Of Thestrals. Harry ogling Cho. Crabbe strangling Hermione.

“Harry!” Moody called, “I ‘ear yer kinda a pro at this, having been taught by Lupin. Why’d’ya show the kiddies how it’s done?”

Harry grimaced a smile. Of course he picks me. Lovely. Like a performing show pony, he calls forth the memory and the spell, having already shown it off in their game of dodgeball, but not every student has seen it before. A collective gasp and sound of awe follow its entrance, the majestic form a beautiful sight.

“Good form Potter!” Professor Flitwick cheers. “Now children, follow with the wrist movement right after the incantation. Precision is key! A happy memory, the spell, and the flick!”

It’s no wonder the dwarf also leads the Frog Choir; the man cannot go a sentence without flicking his wand like a conductors’ baton. Certainly the kind that speaks with his hands, perhaps that’s what makes him so good at charms…

Ginny shuts her eyes and thinks of a Christmas just a few years ago, when she got that beautiful doll that she knew her parents had saved all year for. One gift that wasn’t handmade or handed-down, but hers entirely. Following through with the spell and flick, the silvery blue wisp emerges as a prancing mare, darting around fellow students with grace.

Beside her, Luna conjures up her memory, her Patronus emerging in the shape of a long eared hare, gayly hopping around. 

Dean brings forth a hound that immediately catches the attention of Madam Pomfrey at first, but the breed is obviously not the same and she says never mind. Seamus follows through with a fox, and the two animals start chasing each other around in playful circles.

Feeling Moody glare at them, Hermione decides to go next, summoning up the happiest memories she can, and shoots the Cyclopean professor a wicked grin. The otter appears and starts running circles around his legs, almost tripping him up. But she’s not done yet. No, she calls forth another, and follows with the third, just like she did at the party, with gasps and shouts from students all across the room looking on in shock.

Smirking with glee, she dares Moody to mock her talent, silently challenging him to find another way to insult her.

Taking in the pride that Hermione had once again flexed some of her power, Draco smiles and summons his own Patronus, the mighty bird fanning out its tail as it arrived.  
Hermione looks over at him. “Nice ‘cock.” She teases, watching his face redden to near tomato status, hearing Theo struggle to keep the laughter in as he’s snorting and cackling and Harry catches Draco’s secondhand embarrassment and looks over at another group, watching Blaise summon up a wolf.

Pansy’s unicorn receives just as much shock and awe from the crowd, professors included, but it isn’t until Ron summons his Patronus that Madam Pomfrey nearly fall over herself in shock. It’s a Jack Russell Terrier.

“That can’t be! He was unconscious. He couldn’t have sent his own, nor would he have referred to himself in the third person!” she exclaims as the other students continue with theirs.

Theo nearly drops his wand, mouth agape. What are the fucking odds?

Not every student summons a corporeal animal spirit. Some only get a little fizz of smoke from their wands’ tip and others produce the shield, and Neville struggled so hard that his Patronus become more of a blob than animal as he couldn’t hold the memory well enough and flicked his wrist too hard, hence breaking the flow of magic.  
Flitwick, McGonagall, and begrudgingly Moody award points to each student who produced a corporeal Patronus-but not for each one that Hermione summoned- which would’ve more than made up what he deducted yesterday but she wasn’t going to argue semantics and took the win that she and fellow Slytherins had gained.

The class had been considered a raving success, and was dismissed just in time for lunch, so all bodies evacuated for the tables to be resummoned and aligned in place.   
Seeing Neville look so down, Pansy came up to his side and patted his arm. “It’s alright Nev; it’s not the easiest thing to do.” She could tell it really got to him, that he’d wanted to prove himself a worthy wizard an accomplish one spell-especially in such a public setting. Now he felt like a fool. “Hey, come sit with me at lunch.” She suggested.

His head snapped up. “What?”

They hadn’t really made such a public display of their tentative courtship, but seeing how lately the lines between house loyalties had been drawn, crossed, blurred, and broken by those who shall remain nameless, it didn’t like it would cause such a big stir. As it was, several students were still huddled in their groupings from class, actively talking about their Patronus forms and wondering if the professors had found who they were looking for.

Be that as it may, Harry was joining the Slytherin table again, and once the presence of Neville Longbottom appeared, Crabbe and Goyle promptly pushed away from their spots on the bench and joined Ron in a shocking spiteful response. Dean and Seamus shot Ron a curious glance-after all, if he was uncomfortable with Hermione and Pansy at their table, why should he be fine with those two?-and Ronald put their worries to rest with the simple explanation of revenge.

“If they’re gonna end our friendship and let Potter and Longbottom in, it’s just like them kicking us out.” Goyle had growled.

“Got nowhere else to sit.” Crabbe stated stuffily, with his nose still promptly bandaged.

“Besides, Goyle’s my potion partner. I think we covered that class assigned partners were an exception.” Ron pointed out to Dean and Seamus.

“Yeah but…they’re…them…” Dean said, waving his fork and indicating the two meatheads that had once been Malfoy’s shadows and henchmen.

“Without Malfoy calling the shots, they’re not gonna do anything-are ya?” he turned to the bulky dimwits. They both nodded in agreement, not like they needed to lose another place to sit. And Ron saw how much they needed a leader, neither boy was brainy enough to act on his own, and they were a package deal.

The look passed between the two Gryffindor boys was one laced in doubt and suspicion, but they’d allow it only if the two behaved. Lavender and Parvati were less convinced and scooted away from the rest of the fourth years as much as they could, despite how attached at the hip the blonde had become with her boyfriend. Discouraging glances were delivered from the older Weasley brothers, who were seriously debating what was wrong with their little brother seeing as how Ginny was once again with the Ravenclaws and thus, closer to Hermione. She had made her standing clear and showed no support of Ronald’s actions whatsoever.

Oh their parents weren’t going to be happy hearing about this.  
………………………….

SATURDAY April 15, 1995

Suffice to say that surviving her first week as a Slytherin had been no joke, Hermione breathed in a sigh of relief when the weekend arrived and for once, she wouldn’t have classroom drama to be burdened with. The marks on her throat were fading quickly-after all, Crabbe hadn’t held her for very long-but the bruise on her back was certainly tender and probably a new plethora of colors. It still wasn’t worth bothering the Medi-Witch over, not if she wanted to prove to the woman that she wasn’t constantly at risk.  
Pansy though, clever girl that she was, had come to her before bed the previous night and slipped her a jar of anti-bruising cream with a wink and a smile. As such, Draco was the only one who had seen the lasting marks, and she aimed to keep it that way, so she couldn’t risk standing half starkers in the girls’ loo trying to use one mirror to see over her shoulder and apply it, no, she’d have to settle for doing it in her own little room. With no mirror. 

Now she’d wished she thought of purchasing one, even a little handheld. Oh well, it’s not like she ever did anything the easy way. Sitting on her bed, wearing a pair of comfortable jeans and clad in a bra, she took some meditating breaths and flexed her arms in order to be able to reach but found that even her shoulders ached and limited her movement.

Oh lovely, just what I need when I’m supposed to teach the guys this morning.

A knock interrupted her inner grumbling dialogue. “Rise and shine Princess!” Draco teased.

“I’m very much awake Draco, thank you.” She snapped. Normally she was first one up and out, ready to face the day. Now that the Slytherins were exposed to a normal amount of light a few had already started shifting in their sleep patterns.

“Wake up with another dead mouse?” he laughed, knowing how Crookshanks loved to bestow gifts.

“Far from it. Are you alone?” she asked.

Curiosity piqued, he answered that he was. He heard a shuffle and then felt her door open. He quickly stepped inside to find her top half covered in a bundled up shirt pressed to her chest. He closed the door behind him quickly. “Uh Hermione…you do remember me telling you about undressing-”

“Oh stop being a prude and come help me!” she hissed, motioning him over. “You’re the only one who’s seen it and I’d rather not have to ask Pansy and go through the whole process again.”

“And here I thought maybe you were trying to seduce me Granger.” He chuckled as he took the jar of cream and sat on the bed behind her. 

She scoffed. “As if I’m that much of a temptress.”

He chose to ignore the self-deprecating comment. “This is going to be cold.” He warned, lightly ghosting his fingers across her spine with his bare hand, feeling her flinch with that little squeak she tried so hard to suppress slipping out. “Just…calm yourself…” He set the jar aside and lightly placed his palm to her back, the other hand gently grasping her waist as she involuntarily flinched from the pain.

“What are you doing?” she whispered as she fought to hold back the whimper that wanted to escape.

“Trying to warm the spot before I put that stuff on.” Wizards weren’t completely ignorant of basic science, knowing that friction caused body heat, and thus he began to slowly rub the bruised line across her back. “You’re trusting me an awful lot…” he admitted, surprised by the revelation.

“Should I not?”

“Yeah. No! I mean, I’m just…I never expected even so much as this…”

She risked a glance over her shoulder. His face was quite pink, his pale skin giving his blushes away all too easily. “Under normal circumstances, no, I wouldn’t have to entrust myself to someone else like this. Remember, you’re just providing medical assistance, not falling for some grand seduction.”

He laughed. “Just who are you trying to convince? Me, or yourself?”

She scowled. But she had to confess, she wasn’t entirely sure which one of them needed be told. His hands had warmed her back considerably, the ministrations to the tender flesh soothing. Either he knew what he was doing or he just had very skilled hands. A moment later he informed her that he was administering the ointment before she felt the cool sensation of a damp glob being smeared liberally across her back. Her hand swiftly came to her mouth to prevent any lewd sound she might produce in response, not wanting to add any fuel to the fire that was already ignited in some way.

His fingers worked into the scapula of her shoulders, where she was sore but had never mentioned to him. Frankly, she wasn’t sure she’d get an honest answer if she asked him, so it went unsaid as she felt the cool cream soak into her skin and tingle as it begun to heal her.

“Turn around.” He ordered to her confusion, which only made her half-turn to meet his face. So he merely grabbed the belt loops of her denims and forcibly turned her towards him. She yelped and held the shirt even tighter to her chest.

“Dray-” she started to shout at him, but he brings his hand up to her throat, which she has shoved her chin down into as she hunched up.

“If you’re not wearing something that can cover them, then everyone is going to see. So quit fidgeting and let me finish.” He motions with his fingers for her to lift her chin.   
“Honestly…” he chides.

She has to lower the bundle she’s wadded up go in some manner, having to straighten up and lean her head back ever so slightly, so that he can get all the purplish blemishes. It’s shocking just how large Crabbe’s hands are in comparison to her neck; the marks are visible on both sides. Her hair is swept off to one side-scooted aside so her shoulders could be tended to-but then he flings the thick hank of it back, exposing more collarbone and tries to keep his eyes focused on the marks, and not lower…

The undergarment called a bra is not purely a muggle used contraption; it is one of many things that is used universally between the magic and muggle worlds. Although his knowledge of such variations is sorely limited. He thought they only came in white, tan, and black, as pilfered by older boys and shown in secret had taught him. He never expected pink. Although it certainly does flatter her peachy skin.

Her cheeks are so rosy he’s tempted to tease her about it, but it would not be the wisest decision first thing in the morning. He tilts her head side to side to check his work, make sure every bruise is well covered. The cream only takes minutes to do its wonder, worth its weight in gold. It’s an essential in any pureblood’s toiletry bag and no doubt Pansy must’ve realized Hermione was hiding more than she let on. He’d have to thank her later.

“That was…surprisingly gentle…” she states softly, still trying to hide as much of herself behind a crumbled heap of clothing.

“Did you expect otherwise?” he screwed the lid back onto the jar and set it aside. With the residue left on his fingers he searches his neck for the lovebite still visible from her and rubs it in. He arches an eyebrow at her. “Or just from me in general?”

The lip nibble and side eye is plenty answer enough.

Ah, I see….

He cups her cheek. “I want you to trust me. I won’t pretend that I’m not to blame, I had just hoped that given everything that’s happened recently, you wouldn’t still be holding back.” 

“I do trust you.” She says, only hoping she’s convincing enough.

Draco knows a lie when he hears it, when he sees it on the untrained face of those who haven’t been raised in a world of secrets, and while he knows there is a portion of those four words that ring true, he just doesn’t know how much.

But he smiles. “Course you do, after all, we’re on the same team now.”

She bunts her head against his hand. “I didn’t mean…It’s just that there’s…I’m sorry.”

He leans in, cupping the other cheek with his hand. “Ma Belle, tell me what’s wrong so I can set it right.”

It’s just one little thought, but it’s enough to break everything. If she asks, but then if she doesn’t…

“Hermione…”

She inhales and steels her nerve. How is it she faced a massive three-headed dog with less fear in her veins than this? “If I ask, I might hurt you. And if I don’t, it’ll continue to nag at the back of my mind.”

“Ask.” He replied immediately. “You have every right to know.”

“Draco…what are your plans for us? Is this…is this just something that’s going to end come summer? Do you really intend for this…into next year? Further? I just need to know. So I don’t-”

“Shhh. Stop thinking. Stop fretting.” He commanded. He sweeps some locks away from her face and brushes his thumb along the underside of her bottom lip. “How do I convince you that right now, I have nothing planned beyond you? There’s been no other witch, and there won’t be, at least not while we’re here. What’s to say something won’t happen after we graduate and we meet someone else? I’m no Seer, but whoever she is, she’d have to check too many boxes and meet some impossible standards to turn my head.” He paused. 

“It’s me; it’s I who should be worried that some valiant knight is going to sweep you away. Because he’ll never have called you a terrible slur, nor insulted your friends daily, nor made you feel so inferior that you work twice as hard just to prove your worth to yourself….That’s my fear. Maybe it won’t happen here, but out there? There’s bound to be somebody…”

There was a heavy silence as she absorbed his proclamation.

“I told you, wizards plan for the long haul. But I realize this sounds ridiculously too serious for people our age, and where you’re from you’re free to date whomever you wish and as many blokes as you like until you find the one and even then you can decide you’re through with him and move on. That’s why I try not to say anything like this…I mean, it sounds like I should be on one knee with a ring, right?’ he laughed.

“Yeah, a bit.” She agreed, sniffling back the emotion that had welled up.

His hands let go of her face and settled on her arms, sliding up and down to warm her-after all, she was still technically topless in front of him.

“What made you even think that I might be just stringing you along?”

He scoots even closer, and pulls her in a hug so she can lean against him, and his hands naturally go to her back, his fingers and palms sliding across smooth flesh as he embraces her.

She shrugs. “Call it being overly cautious. I’ve had that thought since the beginning but that was when I knew we were still pretending. Things changed so suddenly, it was difficult to tell the game apart from the feelings you claimed, and I didn’t know the difference. Then you got settled with being my bodyguard and I suppose the proximity just made me believe that it might be too good to be true.”

“And then of course, I had to bollocks things up by breaking that fragile trust when I told you I was behind’s Skeeters’ earlier articles.” He sighed. “I don’t blame you for staying reserved.”

She perked her head up. “But I do trust you….I just…sometimes I don’t always believe you…”

“Oh, well that clears things up.” He replied dryly.

“Hold on,” she pushed herself off of him and suddenly flung out the shirt. He turned and coughed into his fist as she pulled the article over her head and stuck her arms through with no pain. “Wow that cream really worked.” She mused before returning her attention back onto him.

“A little warning next time. You realize that was incredibly cheeky, teasing the bloke that fancies you by doing that.” He reprimanded. 

She smirked at him. “Maybe I felt you deserved it. I do trust you, to protect me from danger. But sometimes I feel you are the danger.”

“You wound me.”

“You’ll live.”

They shared a nose-wrinkling little look at each other before Draco resigned with a sigh, “I get it. I do. And I will prove it you.” He stood up. “We’ll be in here all day if we don’t get going. And I’d rather not have another Patronus come barging into here with the kids whining that Mum and Dad haven’t met them in the lab yet.”

Laughter bubbled up from her as she took his hand. “Are we seriously the parents?”

She grabbed her wand and warded the room after exiting, Crookshanks having darted out long ago to continue hunting vermin. Draco nodded as if this were fact. “Oh yes, and Potter is your problem child while my little Theo is the perfectly good little angel.”

She playfully shoved his shoulder. “Theodore’s only the perfectly good little angel because he hasn’t been caught yet.”

Draco smiled with Slytherin pride. “Precisely.”

Needless to say, the “kids” were waiting most anxiously, and were nearly ready to either send a Patronus or come barging down there themselves and almost berated them for being so late but thought better of it when they saw the playful banter and adoring glow around the couple. Whatever happened wasn’t any business of theirs.  
……………………………


	46. Karate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione begins teaching the boys Karate basics, all while juggling her other duties. Draco realizes that while he has earned Hermione’s trust, that trust has not been extended to her heart and he is determined to win it properly, it’s just that he’d rather not have to risk losing her to do so.

SATURDAY April 15, 1995

“Make it a light meal boys, I don’t need you getting sick after a few tumbles on the mat.” She instructed.

Cho caught the significant part of that statement and turned to her little Slytherin friend. “Did I just hear you correctly? The mat? Are you going to be showing them some moves?”

Hermione nodded. “Well, seeing as they were right there when you had me demonstrate a move and pose in it, naturally they were curious.”

The dark eyes of the Chinese witch sparkled. “Do you want a sparring partner?” she asked excitedly. “Just between us. I wouldn’t want to break them of course.”

Draco’s mouth popped open and Theo’s eyes narrowed at the very thought of that lithe Ravenclaw actually doing anything more than winding him. Hermione was about to politely decline when Theo spoke up. “Actually, you know what? Maybe a demonstration between the two of you might be an effective visual aid. But just that. Not like we’re asking you to drop everything and start coaching us.”

Harry, Draco, and Hermione exchanged a look-after how he had vehemently been against it, now he was suddenly changing his mind? Theo knew what they were saying with their eyes when he turned to them. “It’s just a demonstration right? And that’ll be all.”

“Sure Cho, if you’re up for it.” Hermione said. “I’ve got a room designated for my potion project and there’s enough space to act as a mini dojo.”

“Wonderful! This’ll be so much fun!” she exclaimed. “I’ll be up with you in a minute!” she promised as she slipped out of her seat and happily marched over to the Hufflepuff table, where Cedric was surrounded by his fellow Quidditch players, all in a hustle to get to the pitch before the Durmstrang boys beat them to it. She bound up to him, all atwitter with bubbling excitement, speaking rapidly, to which he smiled, nodded, and clearly had no resignation of the last minute change in their plans. She pecked him preciously on the cheek as he gently took hold of a strand of her silky black hair and kissed the amount wrapped around his finger as she walked away.

The whole scene was quite endearing.

“We’re gonna go ahead.” Draco leaned over to Hermione. “We’ll get the other half of the lab cleared.”

“Oh? Thank you.” She replied, blushing when she felt him kiss the top of her head. He signaled for the other two to come with him as they departed from the hall.

“Uh, aren’t one of us supposed to stay with her?” Harry asked.

“She’s with Cho. She’ll be fine.”

“Ok, why’d you suddenly pull us outta there like that?” Theo inquired. Draco didn’t even like it when Hermione sat a different table, even when she was under his watchful eye, now he was willing to actually leave her alone with a friend?

“As much as I’d love to ask about your sudden turnaround about Cho, I realize I need some help.”

“Oh this is big. Mighty Malfoy asking for help?”

“Shut it Nott, I’m serious. We had a very enlightening conversation before breakfast-”

“Oooh enlightening was it?” the brunet teased. Harry elbowed him and signaled for Draco to continue.

“I need to know how to win her heart.”

“Excuse me?”

“Beg your pardon?” 

They came upon the lab and opened the door, shrinking down the excess furniture that wouldn’t be in use and extending the carpet to cover the rest of the floor space. Hermione had told them it needed to be thickened to roughly two inches to provide padding when they practiced, so that came next.

“How’d you come to that conclusion?” Theo inquired.

Frankly, Draco did not want to mention that he’d been tending her bruises-as Harry was in the dark-nor did he want either of them knowing she’d been half dressed either. Knowing that she was on her way gave him even more of the need to keep it condensed. “She said she trusts me, but that she can’t always believe me. What am I supposed to do about that?”

Harry shrugged. “Don’t look at me, she’s like my sister. I’m still trying to Obliviate all the times I’ve caught you snogging and getting cozy.”

Draco scoffed. “Big help you lot.” He turned to Theo. “And you’ve never even fancied a girl that I know of. And I’m certainly not going to ask Krum what his intentions were…”

“For one, it helps to not have any more hidden agendas.” Harry pointed out. 

“I’ve come clean on the last one! I swear!” he huffed. “Oh yeah, you didn’t know about that did you?”

Confused, Harry glanced over at Theo for clarification, seeing the brunet shoot daggers at his blond friend. “Oh trust me Harry, he got what he deserved for that one.” He snapped, arms crossed. “I heard the whole thing.”

Draco scowled. “You three weren’t supposed to be eavesdropping either.”

“Shoulda, woulda, coulda.” Theo rolled his head side to side. “At least we three know you’re actually serious about her. Why do you think they’ve come on board about this so quickly? And not just because Pansy has her own little star-crossed lovers thing going on with Longbottom. But seriously, you’ve got to do more than whisper endearments to her in secret. She needs a show of good faith.”

“Doesn’t sticking my neck out there to make sure she doesn’t get beaten to a pulp count?”

Theo glanced at Harry. “Your turn.”

Harry in turn directed at Draco, “Uh, Ron and I and her have taken turns pulling each other out of harms’ way so much I can barely keep track. Heck, she set Snape’s robe on fire in my first Quidditch game because she thought he was cursing my broom.”

“She did what?!?” both Slytherins exclaimed in unison.

“Oh Harry, telling that story are we?” her voice cut through the banter and gossip, startling all three as if they’d been caught with their hand in Dumbledore’s candy jar. “Though it is kinda funny…” she chuckled.

They turned and sucked in their breaths as both girls had arrived wearing a matching set of strange white pajama like clothing with a colored belt tied around their waists. Cho’s ink black hair was pulled back into a French braid that trailed down her back, and Hermione had taken the extra measure of slicking her hair and wrapping it into a tight McGongagll-esque bun with wispy flyaways trailing around her ears and nape of her neck.

“Hermione, you rascal.” Cho chided, elbowing the little brunette. “I never knew you were such a rebel under that that shy exterior. Then again,” This time, she was addressing the boys, “They do say to watch out for the quiet ones.”

At this, Draco had to laugh. “And when has Hermione ever been quiet?” He then mimicked her famous excited hand-in-the-air signature move with a little toe tapping jig and smirk that failed to amuse the crowd. “Oh come on, you know I’m right.”

Cho leaned over to Hermione. “Are you sure you don’t want to smack him? I’ll hold back the other two.”

“I’ll hold onto that offer.” She replied, staring holes into him as he squirmed under pressure. Harry knew that look all too well. No sympathies for that blond git if he couldn’t figure it out on his own. 

Cho looked around the old classroom. “I suppose given it’s just the four of you, the space is adequate. Have you place cushioning charms along every wall? Protected the lab table?” she inquired at them.

“We were just about to.” Harry defended their lack of foresight before either Slytherin could make a snarky comeback or just blame each other. After pointing his wand at the table and securing it within a shield, the two followed suit and cushioned each wall.

“All wands over here please.” She instructed, setting hers down on a stool sitting alongside the table. “We won’t need them, but I also don’t want to risk damaging them.”  
Wisely, none of them complained.

Cho and Hermione took to the mat at opposite corners. “The three of you are to observe, watch our stance, our throws, and note the fact that we are not trying to kill each other.” 

The girls donned a pair of padded gloves each and bowed to each other, then in a moment of bouncing on their toes and circling, contact was made. Cho had the advantage of height, arm length, and granted that she had been training at a much earlier age than Hermione, and thus was a brown belt while Hermione had only been taking lessons for five years, her intellect and stubbornness advancing her to where she currently was now, with supplementary summer courses to keep herself from falling behind.

They kept it light, mainly focusing on punches and throws, with the occasional kick that Cho was quite fond of using to try to throw Hermione off balance. Being shorter meant her center of gravity was more centralized and she was quick to jump or duck those kicks and sweeps, using the split second of in-between time to get into Cho’s personal space and land a hit. Their movements were fluid and light, almost like a dance they were learning on the spot, until they got a sense of each other and then it was poetry in motion, the attack and block moving in sync as one motion until they were so evenly paced and aware of the next move that they could’ve gone on for hours without stopping and put the demonstration to a halt.

“My goodness Hermione, it’s been so long since I’ve had a proper sparring partner!” Cho gleamed as she wiped sweat off her brow. “You learned to anticipate my moves faster than anyone except my master. Not bad at all for a green belt!”

Hermione shucked off her gloves and wiped her face too. “Those summer classes I take are the only thing keeping me going since I’ve started here. Oh if only I could just drop Flying and take up a Fighting course instead.” She laughed.

“If they offered that here you’d be unstoppable.” Cho joked, only then remembering they had an audience. “Well, I hope that helped you three.”

For a moment, the male trio was rendered speechless, a true feat considering the particular boisterous ones they happened to be.

“Well girl, take it easy on them.” Cho giggled, enjoying their reddened cheeks and slacked jaws. “I’d love to do this again sometime.”

“Certainly!” Hermione happily agreed, knowing she’d have to check her calendar and find a time that would work between teaching the boys, brewing the Pepper-Up potion, working on her joint project with Draco, continuing her Occlumency as well as general schoolwork. 

Jeez, and in Third Year I was taking double lessons with a Time Turner! Ha!

“Ok gents, it’s your turn.” She smiled.  
………………………….

After several hours of introductory lessons of breathing techniques, finding their center of gravity, learning proper stance for attack, defense, and neutral positon, proper wrist turning while thrusting and making contact with the heel of their palm rather than their knuckles, and simple deflection maneuvers, she got them comfortable enough to practice on each other-until it came time to partner against her.

“I’m not comfortable with the idea of trying to hit you.” Draco said flatly when she held up the padded shield and ordered him to hit it as hard as he could.

“Look, I need to gauge your hitting strength and the only way I can do that is if I’m on the other side of it.” She explained. “I’ll be fine, but you need to stop thinking of me as your girlfriend and as your mentor in order to do this.”

“Isn’t there some sort of spell you can cast on this instead?”

“No. It would only give a generalized number on a scale, but I still need to know it for myself.”

“I’m not hitting you.”

“You won’t be. It’s this.” She clarified, shaking the padding. “Now do it.”

He shook his head. “Potter, you do it.”

“Nuh uh. I feel the same way.”

“Oh come on!” she shouted. “What did you think this was going to be about? Look, you saw me and Cho, I’ll be fine!” She turned to Theo. “Are you gonna be a cringeling about this too?”

He stepped to her on the mat. “No, I’ll give it a go.”

“Alright, good. Just focus on hitting the padding, don’t think about anything else.”

He nodded, took a breath and followed through with the instructions she’d ground into them for the past couple hours until it became like a mantra in their minds. The punch was solid and on target, but lacked in strength.

“Now I want you to think of something that might make you angry ok?” she suggested, bracing herself behind the padding.

Theodore closed his eyes. The voice of his father rang in his ears, the names and insults, the glasses hurtled against the wall, the scorch marks of curses aimed by a drunken dark wizard still remaining on the wallpaper to this day. His fist clenched tightly as his breathing tightened in his chest. He took the stance and threw the punch, effectively knocking Hermione back several steps.

She lowered the shield. “Good one, lots of strength in that one.” She praised as he regained his composure. “That’s all I needed. Ok Harry, you’re up.”

Harry sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. She wasn’t going to let him walk away from this, and if one single punch is all she wanted then fine, he’d give it. She still wasn’t satisfied though, and demanded another from him, wanting him to really channel that inner rage he possessed. The rage that secretly scared him because it had already been disastrous before, but her faith in him, her never faltering trust was just enough to see him through as he called upon the Dursley’s. There wasn’t a day that went by that he hated his life with them, hated himself even until he knew where their abuse stemmed from and then it only angered him further because they could’ve easily dropped him at an orphanage rather than inconvenience themselves with an unwanted child.

He felt his knuckles crack and his scar tingle in that burning itch he’d felt when he came to his senses after strangling Ron. Oh if only it had been Uncle Vernon’s thick neck instead, or even Dudley’s. How those two deserved it….

Hermione knew she’d later regret pushing Harry that far, the moment she saw his eyes, knowing he went into that dark place, but she needed to see it for herself. She needed to know what it looked like right before he lost himself. And damned if that boy didn’t deliver. With a hefty thump, she landed on her bum with the wind all but knocked out of her but grinning nonetheless with pride. She might need that bruise cream again after this.

Harry stoically went to go sit by Theo, who knowingly put his arm around and pulled him so he leaned against his form as they sat in contemplative silence. It was Draco’s turn to confront the demon within.

“Hermi-” he began, but she stopped him.

“Just hit the pad. Don’t think.”

He conceded, sighing heavily since he knew she’d never give in, and he had agreed to this stupid thing after all so might as well. It had been a particularly difficult thing at first, learning the stance and technique she was assigning them to, far different from the classic European style of fighting, in which he’d had a general education on.

Clearing his mind of any negative thoughts, he followed through the steps and delivered a fairly strong punch to the padding. He heard her grunt from the other side, but she’d remained firm in place. She assured him she was alright with a smile, then she told him one more. 

Merlin damn it all.

“Come on, I know you hit Ron harder than that.” She goaded with the truth.

“So what if I did, it was just in the moment.” He deflected.

“Then think of the moment, and do it. Think of it like an experiment, and I’m testing the results.”

Double damn, she would have to make it like so logical.

But Weasley zapping her with that curse and the rage he expended that day wasn’t enough to ignite the fire in his blood. That had come and gone and now paled in comparison to newer and more recent threats. Even her duel against the ginger hadn’t raised that heat, although it simmered. He remembered how it felt to see Daphne tackle at her but that had hardly made him see red. That letter his father had written to Snape though, the vile words and descriptions of depravity that man was completely fine with putting her through, it tore at him to think that he’d once idolized that man, emulated his behavior, picking emotions such as jealousy and hatred to hurl at her rather than the compliments he’d ever wanted to give. How Lucius Malfoy was content in believing that Snape had used an Unforgiveable curse upon her to make her susceptible to any whim of his and actually encouraged it was evidence enough that he could never introduce her to him and his mother without endangering her beyond repair. This beautiful soul full of fire and an unmatched intellect, was nothing to Lucius but a plaything for his son to practice any illicit act upon with his full approval. And it revolted him.

She’d seen the way his face clouded over, the way his eyes turned to steel as his body tensed, the veins prominent in his arm as his mind took him to the edge of darkness. Without knowing the specific matter, she knew each of these young wizards contained a dormant volcano just sleeping beneath the surface but alive with the fire of a dragon within. With Harry, she knew all too well of his life when she’d clued in on certain things and he finally came forward. There was no telling what two wealthy and spoilt purebloods went through but it was there all the same.

When he took the stance she’d braced herself, repeating in her mind that she needed to see this, just once, from the each of them, so she would know how to help them channel their rage afterwards. The impact still sent a shock though her as the padding hit her in the face and she stumbled backwards several steps until she felt the wall behind collide with her back-cushioned or not, it still hurt-as the breath was knocked right out of her lungs and tears welled in her eyes merely from the impact, not from the emotional pain-but as she tumbled to the floor she knew from the distraught horror in his face that he thought he’d hurt her.

Well, in essence she was a little physically hurt, but she’d been through far worse. Once the air rushed out of her in a strangled squeak, all three boys had rushed to her side, the padded shield tossed aside as she brought to a sitting position and felt their hands inspect her for damage. The ringing in her ears prevented understanding of their words for several seconds, but she repeated “I’m ok. I’m ok.” over and over and pushed both Harry and Theo’s hands away, reaching for Draco. She needed him to know.

“I’m sorry. Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I told you, I told you I didn’t want to-”

She grabbed hold of his face. “It’s fine. You didn’t hurt me. And I’m sorry I pushed you.”

He pulled her into his arms as he knelt beside her, insisting on looking her over for a bruise or any sign of something worse. “Why’d you make me do that? Do you know what I had to think of? I could’ve hurt you so bad…”

Theo nudged Harry and signaled with a jerk of his chin. They both quietly exited the room and cast a silencing spell as they left and took refuge in the hall.

“Last time I was out in the hall, and those two were in there, she tore into him like a damn storm, screaming like a banshee and hit him about a dozen times.” He said, just to break the solemn silence of the hallway.

“Was that what you were referring to, when you said he deserved it?”

Theo nodded. “Blaise and Pans heard it too. He’d told her he was responsible for the articles Skeeter wrote about her and you and all hell broke loose.”

“That was him?” Harry balked. “Oh that mangy git. Well hell, I’d say he did have that coming.”

“You should’ve heard what he said to her afterwards…”  
……………………….

“No Draco, I told you, it was all part of my lesson. I needed to see what you three were capable of, given that we may very well have to go up against people you and Theo know…your fathers…or maybe even Boggarts in disguise or an illusion. I need to know that you’d have it in you to fight something that may very well look like me.”

“Don’t say things like that. What even?…How do you even get these ideas?...No, I could barely do that you knowing it’s you…and you expect me to…”

“For goodness sakes Draco I’m not made of glass, my body is fine!”

He only pulled her closer, now squeezing her tightly as the cauldron of emotional turmoil bubbled over the rim and spilled out. Her cheek suddenly felt wet as it dawned on her that he was crying-actually crying-sobbing and clinging onto her.

“Draco…” she whispered. “Tell me…”

“No.” his voice was barely audible, but it didn’t need to be more than the breath it was for her to hear it. 

“Let me in. If you want me to be able to fully trust you, to believe you, to understand you, then I need to know. Please Draco; let me know who are in there.”

“You won’t like it.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want you half-hidden from me. If I mean to you what you say, and I’ve been able to open up, then meet me in the middle and do it too.” She pulled her head out of his grasp and leaned back enough to see his façade broken and his grey eyes glisten with tears. “I’m not going to judge you, for having these emotions, for being vulnerable with me. I’m not strong all the time either.” Her hand caressed his cheek, making his eyelashes flicker.

He’d never looked so beautiful to her in all the years she’d known him.

He let go of her, a hand wiping at his face, but his eyes refused to meet hers. Clearly waging another internal war within, his face struggled to compose into one solid emotion. Too many raw and real ones swirled in those storm cloud eyes, the ways his lips twitched as if to form words or refrain from using any. He was at a precipice, debating on whether to step back or fall through into the unknown before him.

In this moment, she chose to look around, realizing the room had been far too quiet for too long. Neither Harry nor Theo was with them, somehow slipping out undetected in their stroke of brilliancy to give them some privacy.

“We’re alone.” She softly stated, as if the knowledge would somehow be a comfort to his decision making process. 

After a lengthy moment, he licked his lips and spoke with great care. “Hermione, the things you want to know…I cannot bring myself to say out loud.”

“Then show me.” she prompted with no hint of distrust, no hesitation. She wanted the truth in any way it could be given. “You don’t have to give me everything, but give me something.”

He covered his mouth as he seemed lost in a sea of thought. “One thing?” he asked.

She nodded vigorously. “Just one thing, for now. Whatever it is you had to think of, whatever it is that makes you so afraid to share yourself wholly, I’ll take it piece by piece.”  
She laid her hand on his thigh, since he was resting mostly on his knees. Her thumb rubbed him in comfort, like he often did with her. It seemed to stir something within him, like he’d finally come to a conclusion.

“How well is your Occlumency? He asked.

“Oh…I uh…I fortified some new walls, started locking away those moments of Skeeter. Haven’t gotten very much further.”

“Would you be willing to let me in?”

Curious, she hadn’t expected this.

“What could you possibly need in my mind?”

“So I can perform a reverse Legilimens, and let you into mine.”

She blinked owlishly. “You can do that?”

“Once the mental bond has been connected the Legilimens can open a door if you will, and let the other in to see the memory at hand. It’s often how many are trained in the beginning, by an experienced professional. It’s just that, I honestly cannot bring myself to say those words.”

All he needed was written on her face. With just a nod of acquiescence, he met her eyes head on and cast the spell.  
…………………………

After having Theo recount the declaration of Draco’s feelings to Hermione that he’d overheard, Harry was awestruck. He never expected the Slytherin Prince to have such a range of emotion, especially for the girl he claimed to hate and had vocally wished for death upon-that had nearly prophetically happened. But as Theodore had no need to lie, even though he liked to be dramatic and perhaps embellish details, he was certain that what he’d been quoted was true, and that Draco Malfoy was truly and madly in love with Hermione, even if he hadn’t realized it himself and she refused to believe it.

“After that, Pansy figured they’d be snogging up a storm so she pushed us down the hall and sent us off to the dorm and said she came back to remind them of curfew. She found the place a total mess, that Hermione just walked away from and was quiet the entire way back to the dorm. From the looks of it, they hadn’t kissed and made up, but he stayed the following night in her dorm.”

“He what?” Harry gaped.

Theo winced; he probably shouldn’t have said that. “Look, I know nothing happened. Draco’s been raised to be a gentleman-believe it or not-so he’s not going to do anything like that. They probably just stayed up all night talking and eventually passed out, he came right back the next morning fully dressed, even with his necktie on.”

“So how do you know if nothing happened?” Harry squinted with suspicion.

Theodore rolled his eyes. “For the love of Merlin, you think he wouldn’t brag about that if he actually had?”

Harry mulled it over for a second. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”  
………………………..

Hermione’s eyelashes were soaked in tears by the time he ended the connection in their minds, having seen what infuriated him so starkly. Had the words been written by say, Rita Skeeter, she might have been able to conjure that emotion for herself, but all she felt was anguish-his anguish. Knowing that every time he looked at her, held her, kissed her, his father’s elegantly scrawled depraved drivel sent him into fits of turmoil, of self-doubt, and he loathed the very name he carried. One that he used to wear like a badge of honor.

No wonder he hardly speaks of himself, and never has of his father. The bastard is actually encouraging his own son to commit several crimes, and all because of my blood status! 

It also answered her question from earlier, when she inquired what his plans were for them. Surely, he couldn’t bring her to the manor for the summer and be treated like the future daughter-in-law they’d expect if she had been a pureblood witch of good family. No, what they currently had could only safely be explored behind the well warded walls of Hogwarts, and even that was fraught with landmines.

“You’re not like your father at all.” She said, watching his face change from withered and worn to vibrant, as if the sun had melted away the winter snow.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” came his softly spoken apology.

She held his cheek. “I’m not. Ok, well a little, but I’m glad to have seen it and know how you reacted to it. To feel what you feel, so I know it’s true. And I suspect there’s far more darkness you’d rather shield me from, believing that I’ll come to my senses and run away once I’ve been exposed to it. But I won’t, not if you’re fighting it along with me.”

He leaned so their foreheads touched. One of his hands cradled the back of her neck. “How did you ever see past all the darkness around me in the first place?”

She smirked just a touch. “I didn’t do anything. You did, at Yule. All those walls you had in place, you let them down. When you offered your handkerchief, when you caught me as I slipped…when you kissed my hand…I didn’t understand why then, but you’d been waiting for that opportunity for a while, hadn’t you?”

He only gave a throaty mmm-hmmm as a response.

“Something in me told me that you meant it all, I still can’t explain how. And then, when I found that paper peacock in my bag, well I honestly had no idea who it was from though I should’ve put two and two together, since I recall you’re actually pretty proficient with enchanting origami. I knew Ron wasn’t talented enough for that, nor would he be subtle enough to remain mum on it if I didn’t immediately come thanking him either. Knowing you’re the one who saved me in the library makes me wonder just how long you’ve been watching me Draco.”

“Every day.” He answered. “And all the while I was as insignificant as a bug to you. Which I deserved. I would’ve watched you every day until graduation, cast in your shadow.”  
“You know, that sounds like an unhealthy obsession, borderline on being a stalker. And many stalkers end up killing their target.”

She felt his brow furrow against hers before pulling back enough just to meet her face. “I’m guessing that’s a Muggle thing?” She nodded. “Why kill the object of desire? Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?”

“Well, to those who are afflicted with that are usually mentally disturbed and need help, but often fall through the cracks of society and go unnoticed until they do something violent, and even then, are often released back into the streets. There’s just not enough help to go around for those who need it, so it’s this endless cycle of criminals getting away with petty crimes until they cross the line.”

“Sweet Salazar, no wonder your parents had you taught to fight, if the Muggle world is as dangerous as that.”

“It is sad, but true. You can never be too sure where the danger is hidden. Do you think you’ll be able to continue with me teaching you this? Or was this too much?”

“You’re never going to ask us to do that again, will you?”

“Never.” She firmly answered. “That was a one-time thing. But sparring against me will be something you’ll have to face. Just so you can apply what I’ve taught you and I can determine your progress.”

“I still don’t like the idea of even that.”

“Fine. I’ll spar with Theo and you and Harry can go at it.”

He smiled. “You’re actually giving me permission to hit Potter? And it’s not even my birthday yet.”

She smacked his chest. “Prat, wipe that grin off your face. It’s not like I’m allowing you two to beat each other senseless. Although, you probably both need it.”

“Aw come on, one pot shot?” he playfully pleaded with eyes that could melt butter. And just like that, her Draco was back.  
…………………….

Harry and Theo estimated enough time had gone by before pulling down the silencing charm, and after a moment of hearing no screaming or crying, but actual giggles and general natured speaking, they judged the coast was clear and opened the door, sticking their heads in a comical manner like pranking teens in a comedic show.

Draco caught them leering in the doorway. “Oh look Mum, the kids are back.”

“Kids?”

“Mum?”

Their confused faces made the joke even more hilarious to her and Draco as they welcomed their friends back into the room. She nudged him as she tried overcoming her laughter, for their behavior was all too childlike.

“Wait a minute; are you two actually claiming us as your kids?”

“Oh would you look at that dear, our problem child has actually figured something on his own without running to you for the answer.” He teased, earning him a smack to his chest, even though she hadn’t stopped chuckling.

“Problem child?” Harry echoed. “Why am I…oh never mind.” 

Theo then started to laugh. “If they get divorced I’m going with Mum then.”

“No way am I being settled with Harry ‘Problem Child’ Potter.” Draco declared.

Harry made a rude gesture with his hand at the blond, good naturedly of course, as the whole atmosphere had once again become a friendly and safe place for the unlikely group of friends.  
……………………….

Sunday followed the same scheduled lesson-of course, without them having to go against Hermione-as she told them building muscle memory was key to being able to perform the moves without having to think too hard about it. They agreed to take turns testing each other, rotating between who held the padded shield, who was striking, and who calling the shots.

Their corporation was surprising but refreshing, she suspected in part because they were learning something outside of the school’s curriculum that they could actually use if ever disarmed of their wand. Who would expect a wizard to suddenly turn into a boxer? What she hadn’t been privy to, was a secret agreement among the trio to protect her-granted she was perfectly able to defend herself, after all, she was the one teaching them-and they’d use any means necessary to do so.

After that day’s lesson concluded and they were rehydrating themselves, plopping onto the floor and grabbing their school bags to finish homework, Hermione retransfigured her karate gi back into the regular clothes she was wearing and slid up to the lab table. She filled more vials of Pepper-Up potion, and had called upon Dobby on the status of Winky.

He informed her that ever since hearing that she was wanted for work, she’d been thrilled beyond measure to once again be of service, but hadn’t made much progress in detoxing. Hermione handed Dobby two vials and ordered him that the next time Winky was going for another bottle of butterbeer to hand her that instead. She still felt too disgraced to come to the lab and present herself before her future employer while in her state, so Dobby had become their go-between Elf.

“Slow and steady wins the race.” She muttered to herself.

She secretly appreciated Harry’s budding friendship with Theodore on more than just the obvious matter of him cutting ties with Ronald. Theo was also quite adept in many of his classes and took to tutoring Harry on many of the subjects she had often held his hand through, and not just potions. It saved time that she might otherwise not have to dedicate to teaching them karate basics.

So as they sat there, heads almost touching, looking over the same book and enunciating the incantation over and over until it rolled perfectly off the tongue, Hermione was struck with the odd thought that they made a cute couple…that is, if Harry wasn’t obviously taken with Cho. She wasn’t entirely sure about Theo’s orientation to just assume.  
She shook off the thought. It must’ve just been residual rosy tinted endorphins from being around Draco so much, and where there was Draco, there was bound to be Theo, and now that extended to Harry. They’d become a quartet of their own. No longer a Golden Trio, as she was now among the silver serpents and Harry had made it clear in body language alone that he was done with Ronald, so there was not even a Golden duo.

More like the Golden Boy and the Silver Trio, she mused as she shifted between stirs at the cauldron and scribbling down more lines of homework. She loved having studious partners and was pleasantly taken with the fact that Draco was a dedicated student who actually did his own work-not that he could even trust his cronies to have done it if they possessed the wit-but she could see he took pride in his achievements. And of course, he loved to make it a competition, as evident when he slapped his parchment down in the center of the trio with a triumphant declaration that he finished first.

She stifled a giggle as the other two rolled their eyes and huffed. It was kind of cute. What made it more irksome for them was that he was completely correct on all his answers, so as Theo looked it over he didn’t even have the opportunity to tease him for slipping up. There was a little swell of pride in her chest at that. Heat rose in her cheeks as she realized she was getting giddy with the thought that her boyfriend was her equal in academics, even though she bested him in most subjects. 

My boyfriend… Her cheeks felt ablaze as she risked a subtle glance from the corner of her eye, using her ponytail to hide behind. He was smiling smugly, flicking a galleon in his hand idly as Harry was frustrated with being beaten to the finish line and Theo calmly walking him through the solution.

This new sensation rippling through her was thrilling and heartwarming and just a little scary all at once, like the adrenaline rush from riding a roller coaster and sipping a mug of spiced cider on a crisp autumn morning and as nerve wracking as a pop quiz, and she decided she rather liked that mixed concoction of emotions.  
……………………….


	47. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hobbling along to the Infirmary, Draco and Harry have a little heart to heart. Cedric Diggory comes to the assistance of Hermione and Theo when faced with another Slytherin threat. And Draco finally opens up his heart and art journal to Hermione, for her to see what he’s always seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think there's a more fitting chapter to be uploaded than this one on Tom Felton's birthday!  
> It's a little fluffy!

On Monday it became apparent to the other Slytherins that their newest table companions was not merely a passing weekend fancy and were making themselves a permanent fixture. Since everyone knew better to than to mess with The Harry Potter and not earn the ire of the Headmaster himself, he and Neville’s extended invitation had not been challenged by their peers, despite their pleading glances cast at their Head of House. Snape had raised a curious brow at first, but now it was day three of this little dance and so far there had been peace, and no further reports of threats against Granger, so it seemed to be doing something.

It was far more curious to him though, of Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle’s reaction and odd pairing up with Ronald Weasley, who had now become their pseudo leader in their perceived betrayal by Draco Malfoy. The three were an isolated bunch at the Gryffindor table but at least there had been no outbursts or physical altercations.

It was the general consensus that this was merely a revenge tactic and the farce would end soon. 

Insults and threats were still tossed around in the hallway like curses in a duel, there was no mistaking the palpable dissension between supporters and haters of the whole ordeal, making themselves be heard quite loud and clear on the neutral turf between classes. Hermione still had her bodyguard formation and wand at the ready when a group of three or more happened by. There was always a sneer of disgust, the slur spatted in her direction, and the occasional shoulder shove one of the guys was prone to get in their testosterone filled way of saying ‘watch your back’ as they shuffled into classrooms.

Goyle, being ballsy as well as stupid, stuck his leg out as Hermione and Draco entered Potions. Hermione had seen the move and stepped over the offending limb, but Draco had not, being a half step behind. He was upright one minute and crashing into the hard stone floor of the dungeon based classroom with a bone crunching heap, crying out in pain as Hermione whipped out her wand and jabbed it into the throat of his former henchmen. Had it been a blade she would’ve drawn blood.

“Go on, try something Gargoyle.” she hissed.

Goaded, he attempted to grab at her before the long arm of their Professor cut between them, gently pulling her wand back as he tutted about “ladylike behavior” to Goyle’s delight, until he turned on the boy and slapped him with cleaning duty for detention right along with Weasley and Crabbe. Gregory’s smile immediately disappeared when it was apparent Granger wasn’t receiving any punishment as he slunk away to his seat.

Draco feebly got to his feet but couldn’t support his weight on one leg and hobbled to his seat, hissing and wincing with each undignified hop, cursing under his breath. Hermione took his black leather school satchel and slung it over her shoulder as he grabbed along each desktop until they reached their arranged table.

“Mister Malfoy,” Snape called out, “Do we need to see to the Infirmary?”

Draco rubbed the joint screaming with agony and shook his head. He wasn’t going to let a stupid little foot trip send him to the hospital. This wasn’t a flare for the dramatic hippogriff scratch, just a bruise to his ego and kneecap. Only, it wasn’t just a bruise, it was a warning.  
……………………….

When Potions ended Draco stiffened as he put weight down and tried to straighten his knee. He’d remain sitting on his stool all of class as Hermione collected ingredients, tasking him with reading out loud the directions and stirring as she chopped and peeled various plants and collected animal parts. She’d cast a cooling charm on his knee to act as an ice pack, but that did little for the interior swelling and the pain.

He hadn’t made it two steps when it was painfully obvious-literally and figuratively so-that he’d need to see the Medi-Witch and acquire assistance. Shuffling aside as the majority of class dispersed, Hermione worried her lip in over who was going to walk him there. She clearly didn’t want to rankle the nurse any further, even if she wasn’t the patient this time.

“She’ll recognize your voice the moment you open your sarcastic mouth.” Draco pointed at Theo. “So where does that leave us? Where’s Blaise?”

“I’ll do it.” Harry volunteered. “Blaise pulled on Padma’s braid-and she’s literally throwing her shoe and a few curses at him.” he said from his position in the doorway. 

“Oh because that’s subtle.” Hermione scoffed. “Typical immature boy behavior, wouldn’t you say?” she addressed at her boyfriend. “Boy picks on girl because he likes her?”

Oh how his ears turned red.

“Come on Your Majesty, before you really give him a need to be in the Infirmary.” Theo laughed, taking her arm. “We’ll see you blokes later.”

They could still hear him snickering like he was Lavender Brown as they rounded the corner and headed down the hall.

“Potter.” Snape drawled. “I couldn’t help but notice this new alliance,” he emphasized drolly, “with young Malfoy here. Do refrain from including your usual rule breaking antics and just see to it that he arrives at his destination.” He warned while handing him a tardy excusal slip.

“Yes sir.” He said, allowing Draco to throw his arm over his neck and tentatively walk along-side his former nemesis. The two teens knew they were being scrutinized by their Potion Master under that impassive mask of boredom. It was unnerving and oddly reassuring, hearing the next words he said.

“It would appear that the Granger girl is enough of a positive influence for the two of you to overcome your differences and band together. How very interesting.”  
…………………………..

“Why’d you volunteer to help? We’re not entirely on the friend level are we?”

Harry harrumphed. “I could leave you to face those stairs on your own if you wish.” After hearing no argument, he continued, “And yes Malfoy, I do believe we’ve crossed into the friend territory. I already consider Theo my friend, so why not you?”

“Sodding hell Potter I told you enough about my reasons, I did quite a lot of soul bearing that particular day, and not just to you.” He winced as he tried applying more pressure in his gait and nearly lost his grip on Harry and hit the floor. “Fucking Goyle…”

Those thick headed louts had become quite bold lately, and it was disturbing. They weren’t the type to act on their own accord, and for them to openly come at him meant they sure as hell were not taking to his relationship with Granger lightly. Course not, with Death Eater fathers of their own and the I.Q. of flobberworm they made good henchmen and intimidation muscle to make his little ass feel bigger than it was at eleven.

“Figured I’d get this moment to say thanks for inviting me to sit with you and the other chums. Neville appreciates too; he just won’t come out and say it.”

“Well, you two are better company than those tossers, so fair trade I’d say.”

They shared a chuckle over that, and a few beats of silence as Harry helped him ascend one flight of stairs from the dungeons to the first level. They were approaching the Great Staircase when Harry piped up again.

“Since we’re having this moment-”

Draco groaned, anticipating an uncomfortable subject matter.

“Why the sudden interest into wining Hermione’s heart? Weren’t you already doing that?”

The blond heaved a sigh. It’s not like he could hobble those stairs or levitate himself on his own. And bloody Gryffindors always felt the need to talk, and pester for answers. And well, he’d fucking brought the situation up of his own accord hadn’t he?

“You know that at first it was pretend. Somewhere along the way it became real. But you also know me; I have to pull the lion’s tail. It’s one thing when I’m one of the few standing in the way of an entire housemate free-for-all, but it’s another when we’re alone…and she wants me to tell her things…but then half of the time she doubts the integrity behind it.” He raked a hand through his hair. “It’s like…I don’t know. She trusts me with her body but not her heart.”

“Oh Malfoy please don’t go into details of what you two do with each other’s bodies, I’m begging you.” Sickening memories of the tongue wagging between a certain Gryffindor pair was enough to put him off the subject.

He rolled his eyes. “As if I would. But for the record, I have been completely respectful. My mother didn’t raise an uncouth barbarian.”

Harry snorted. “Sure could’ve fooled me all these past years.” But before the Slytherin could feel like his character was under attack, he continued. “If you say so. After all, she hasn’t said anything. Not like she would…Well no matter, wouldn’t you say that’s a no-brainer she’d make you earn that?”

Draco hopped each and every step to the top, breathing heavy and truly leaning on Harry for support, feeling his supporting leg tingle from exhaustion. “For the love of dragons, levitate me or something, I’m gonna pass out.”

“Get a grip Malfoy, your knee met stone, not like it was bitten off. You’ll be fine. But as for Hermione…I’d suggest a more public display of affection. Not like I wanna see that…”

“Oh har har.”

Harry stopped suddenly, letting Draco catch his breath and lean against the wall. “No mate I’m serious. It’s all fine and dandy when you’re at the lab, or in the dorms or wherever else you guys find a quiet spot. But that’s only stolen moments. Hermione truly does believe that actions speak louder than words. Sure, you’re on this protection squad of hers, but she sees that more as your duty more than a declaration of feelings. You saw how Cho and Cedric were, right?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Please, we all saw that. Especially you.”

Harry tugged at his collar. “Yeah, well…I’m not acting on a’right?”

“You better not either. I’d lose what little opinion I have of you real quick, and you’d never hear from Theo again. I’m sure he explained his reasons.”

Harry nodded. “I’m not saying copy them, but just be more…affectionate.”

The blond pushed off the wall. “Come on, this thing’s really killing me. I’m trying Potter, I want her to know. It’s just, there’s too many contributing factors.”

“Malfoy, if you can’t give her the proper attention when we’re in school then what makes you think you can out there? Take her to Hogsmeade and give her a real date. Make her feel special. Jesus, I don’t even have a girl and I can’t believe I’m giving you advice…” he ridiculed with a hint of irony in his voice.

They arrived at the Med Wing of the castle, Draco near ready to collapse onto the closest bed with how overworked his sole good leg was before Madam Pomfrey materialized out from behind a viewing screen and got him propped up. She pulled the hem of his trouser leg up and exposed the swollen, bruised, and yes, even bloodied-although long since dried-kneecap and tutted.

“You should’ve come sooner, you’ve got bruising all the way to the bone and inflammation.” She informed as she fluttered off to grab a few potions.

“I know how to woo a pureblood witch Potter, not the bleeding most intellectually demanding muggleborn the school has seen in decades.” Draco hissed his retort.

Harry shrugged. “How can I help when I don’t see her as a prospective girlfriend? I know she likes this color called periwinkle and sugar quills, and dandelions and the works of Shakespeare, but other than that I can’t really say what you should do.” He listed. “Other than respect her.” he added darkly.

“Aye Big Brother.” Draco saluted mockingly. “Better get onto your next class. Wait, did you say dandelions? Like, the fucking weed? Hundreds of species of flowers and she actually likes a bloody weed? Why?”

Again, Harry shrugged. “Ask her. There’s no harm in that. It doesn’t have to be a guessing game you know.”

Heavy footfalls and huffs indicated the arrival of the intimidating Healer.

“Oh but Potter, where’s the fun in that?” he laughed as the Boy-Who-Lived made a hasty exit so as not to earn a scornful glower and lecture on loitering.  
…………………………..

“Those two creeps are really testing the waters now aren’t they?” Theo remarked as he and Hermione headed off to their next class, with her carrying Draco’s trademark black leather satchel embossed with an elegant DM in the corner of the front flap. It was fine quality, buttery soft and smelled intoxicatingly good. It put her own well-worn standard beige canvass bag to shame, given that she’d had to sew a few small tears along the seam to reinforce it.

Theo noticed her attention was more on the bag than his words. It was a glaringly obvious statement that even their schoolbags marked how far apart and different their worlds were, yet inside, they held the same books and tools for learning.

“Yes. Though I’d wished Snape would subject them to something harsher than cleaning the laboratory.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t know? He’s making them do it the Muggle way as extra punishment. On hands and knees, scrubbing with brushes and buckets of water.”   
When she turned to see his face for any tells, he continued. “I read up on it. God, awful backbreaking work Muggles face without magic. My research also brought up this story called Cinderella, how she spends all her days cleaning and a good witch transfigures her rags into a gown for a ball. Seemed kinda nice until I got to where the step-sisters cut off part of their feet to fit into these ridiculous glass slippers-I mean honestly, who the hell can walk in glass shoes in the first place?” he shuddered. 

She couldn’t help herself, she laughed and slung her arm around him and pecked his cheek. “You’re a delight you know.”

“Of course I am. But why?”

“Because you went out of your way to learn something of the Muggle world, just out of curiosity, and you read the original Grimm’s Brother’s version of the story, not the sugar-coated Disney retelling.”

Beaming like he’d just earned fifty house points, Theo kinda puffed his chest. “Aw girl you flatter me, but you’re already taken. Or did I miss the newspaper article about your anti-climactic break-up and I have been chosen as the next candidate of being on the arm of The Miss Hermione Granger?”

She smacked his bicep. “How’s that for being on my arm?” she teased.

He rubbed the spot tenderly. “Ow, now I see that he’s not always being dramatic. You got a whip for an arm.” After a few seconds, the sting dulled away. “Speaking of the boyfriend, he been treatin’ ya alright?”

A purely girlish giggle escaped her lips. “Aww Theo, Harry’s already got the role of protective big brother-well technically he’s younger but who’s counting?-so you don’t have to worry. I can handle Draco.”

He noticed quite the deflection there, and had he been a Hufflepuff he might’ve fallen for it. But Slytherin he was. She had not answered the question and tried to use Harry’s involvement to deter him from the point. Oh clever witch indeed.

“Hermione, firstly, I know it makes little difference right now, but I AM the older big brother, my birthday is literally the first day of school, which makes me a whopping eighteen days older than you missy.”

That certainly spun her for a loop. She stopped dead in her tracks for a second before they picked up their pace to their classroom. “Oh sorry, I never knew.” He held up a hand to prevent her from waffling on as to why, for he knew, they weren’t friends at the time, so why should she? “But how’d you know my birthday?”

For that he chortled. “Oh like we could miss the entire Weasley clan singing loud and off key while shoving a cake smothered in so many candles it nearly burned the Howler of their parents singing right along with them? I’m sure that day went down in infamy as one of the few times a fire hazard wasn’t Seamus’s fault.”

The chagrin was evident as her face turned beet red.

“Yeah, Draco made a mental note. September 19, and he even-” but he stopped short. He couldn’t tell her that his pining friend had drawn clever little cartoons of her hair on fire for the delight of the Slytherin table and then followed through with his own dreamy sketch he later painted in hues of orange and yellows in water color. Her face looking shyly at the blazing cake, hair in an enveloping blanket of curls right before she squeezed them shut to make a wish. That was something Draco should show her.

He was saved from trying to recover his sentence as they arrived and took their seats, Professor Vector starting the lesson right off the bat and leaving no room for idle whispered chitchat. He knew though, that she wouldn’t let it go and he’d have to say something by the end of class. Luckily, the arrival of a slightly tardy Harry was one welcome distraction and the later arrival of said reluctant artist was another. 

When he slid into the space they’d obviously saved for him by placing his bag on the bench, Theo slyly slid a note to his blond companion that Draco easily his under his page of parchment and even as he wrote along with the assignment, he managed to coyly sneak a peek without even arousing suspicion from his nearby girlfriend or their sharp-eyed professor.

~DRACO, You had better show her those drawings! It read. 

Draco had been considering it for some time now, especially since Theo and his big mouth had revealed it to her and piqued her curiosity. He just wasn’t sure how she’d react to knowing all the different stolen moments he’d managed to secretly accomplish in his silent pursuit of her. But as he’d been reminded earlier by a Gryffindor who was clearly not The Brightest Wizard of His Age, he needed an actual burden of proof to show her. Some kind of grand gesture. Something that wasn’t going to be misconstrued by her inability to take a bloody compliment or have her pride pricked.

He’d caught up to speed, thanks to her and Theo quietly murmuring part of the lesson and showing their notes, and he barely managed to get the last line on his Arthimancy done as the bell sounded. As Hermione snuck in close with Harry for a brief chat, he leaned over to Theo.

“Fine. I’ll fetch the bloody sketchbook.” he whispered with a growl in his throat.

“You can thank me later.” The brunet smugly smiled as he caught up with the duo when Draco stormed off in the other direction on his mission.

“Where’s Draco off to now?” she asked.

“Don’t worry love; he’s gone to the dorms for something. We’ll meet him at in the Great Hall for study group.” He answered as Marcus Flint shoved into with his shoulder upon his exit.

“Watch where you’re going Notice-Me-Nott.” He sneered.

“Only ballsy when Malfoy’s not around I see.” He shot back, pushing Hermione into place behind him as Harry came around her other side to serve as a barrier between him his friend.

It was to everyone’s surprise when a third body, clad in yellow trimmed Hufflepuff robes stepped up that made Flint reconsider his foolhardy action and retreat. Seeing as he was outnumbered and by whom, he wasn’t willing to become another scullery maid in the Potion lab if word got back to Snape-and he knew it would-so he curled his lip in disgust and slunk away as if he had better things to do.

“I must say Harry; you certainly have a penchant for standing by your friends, even when they’re fully capable of handling their own.” Cedric laughed. “You alright Miss Granger?”

She blinked owlishly at the strapping Sixth Year, taller and broader than the current standard fourth year boy’s body and with twinkling kind eyes that somehow managed to bring just a hint of warmth to her cheeks. She doubted she’d ever even exchanged words with Cedric before, but she could certainly see as to how Cho was so taken with him.

“I-I’m fine, really. That’s a normal thing.” she replied, putting away her wand that she’d secretly had aimed from around Theo’s side.

The sorrowful look that crossed the teen’s face was still breathtaking. He could be a model with chiseled features like that. “It shouldn’t have to be.”

“You’re right, it shouldn’t.” Theo piped up, still in protective mode. “That’s why she has us, and Draco Malfoy-her boyfriend.” He emphasized.

Cedric nodded. “And it wasn’t until Malfoy left that Flint felt so emboldened. I know.” He stepped aside so the trio could leave the entrance way and continue their path down the hall. “I’m sure Professor Snape has his hands full with the majority, so it’s good there are friends like you nearby.”

Yeah, except for the one time when we weren’t, Theo mused bitterly.

“Right, well thanks Cedric.” Harry said shaking his hand as the Hufflepuff pivoted to return to his scheduled class.

“Course Potter, we may be opponents during the tournament but we’re still on the same team elsewhere.” He flashed Hermione a smile that she felt guilty with how it made her breath hitch. 

“And what team is that?” Harry asked, confused for the obvious.

Cedric chuckled and patted his shoulder. “The being-a-good-friend team.” He clarified as he walked away.

“Well that was something.” Theo replied, checking over his shoulder as the Hufflepuff Hero met up with other sixth year’s for his class. “You alright love?”

Hermione nodded, not trusting her voice at the moment. It boggled her why she was reacting to Diggory like that-not as if having Draco, Theo, Blaise, and even Pansy standing up for her wasn’t some kind of miracle she’d never expect in a million years, and Harry was a given of course, but Cedric Diggory? Surely it just must the shock that not only was he a sixth year and a Hufflepuff but also the Tri-Wizard Tournament chosen candidate, but honestly, a little handsome if she had to admit.

But of course she’d known that. He wasn’t the only handsome boy in the school, but he was most certainly taken, and so was she. Yes, by one Draco Malfoy, blond and brooding yet also beautiful.

She followed the bodyguard duo towards the Great Hall for the Slytherin study period, both her and Theo waving Harry off as he went onto his own class. Few Slytherins were sprinkled here and there at their telltale table; others would be in the library or soaking up sun in the courtyard. A pot of tea and little cakes appeared at the table right before Draco arrived.

She jumped when he set a leather bound sketchbook down with a heavy thud, sliding into his seat and plucking a little cake off the plate without a word. Sweets were always his weakness. His own cup of tea arrived, with four sugars dissolving away into the hot liquid. Watching as his eyes closed as he inhaled the aroma of the beverage she caught the flashing eyes of Theo, clearly signaling with a speedy blinks if she was going to bring up what just happened or if she was leaving it to him.

“Alright, you two are being quiet.” Draco stated, setting the teacup down. “Potter do something? Weaselwimp say something?” he asked, looking at either one for a response.

She pulled in her bottom lip. “No. Flint was causing trouble the moment you left.”

He scowled drummed his fingers along the table top. “And?”

“A white knight had to show up and scare him off since Harry and I apparently weren’t intimidating enough.” Theo supplied, watching her apprehension.

“Cripes. Who?” whose arse did he have to go kiss now?

“Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff, sixth year. You know; tall, dark blond hair, real nice on the eyes.” Theo sarcastically described, watching with amusement as Draco absorbed the information. “Making moon eyes at Hermione.” He added.

“Theo!” she admonished hotly.

“Oh was I mistaken? Or was that you?” he shrugged and picked up his teacup.

Draco turned back to Hermione, who looked in a right state of panic.

“I was just…surprised by it that’s all!” she exclaimed. “He showed up out of nowhere, got Flint to back down, and that was it.”

“Did you get his autograph too?” Draco teased, instantly easing her anxiety. 

“N-no.” she stuttered, blushing like a fool for getting worked up over nothing. He put his hand to her pink cheek, caressing his thumb along the soft skin.

“I hope that blush is for me then.” 

It darkened as if on cue.

“Lovely.” He replied, sniggering at the fact that only he could make the Lioness of the Snake Pit melt into that simpering second year fawning over her charlatan professor. “Come on, I have something to show you.” he said, pulling her up to her feet and grabbing the leather bound book.

“Remember to keep it in your pants Malfoy.” Theo quipped before the backside of Malfoy’s fingers connected upside his head and a lovely insult followed before the Slytherin Prince escorted his Princess out. Theo rubbed the offended spot and chuckled to himself, finishing off the little cakes as he pulled out his book on Ancient Runes.  
……………………..

It didn’t take long for her to realize that he was leading her to the young willow by the pond where their first interactions towards civility occurred. It seemed eons ago now, and even longer since the Yule Ball. So much had happened in just five months. The spot was unoccupied-thank goodness-not like they had a claim to it, but all the same, she’d rather not have Draco’s mood turn sour over a territorial turf.

When they stopped, he undid his robe and unceremoniously dropped it to the grass along with his satchel. He reached out and slipped her bag strap off her shoulder, but held onto it as she unbuttoned her own robe and laid it in a much neater fashion than he did. It wasn’t until she was sinking down onto it that he softly relinquished the bag and then took a seat himself.

“Well, this brings back memories…” he chuckled.

“At least this time we won’t have to worry about who has whose robe.”

“I think you’ll notice that mine are a bit big on you, short stuff.”

She faked being insulted. “Short stuff? How rude.” Although it was anything but.

He stretched and laid out on his back, hands tucked behind his head. “I rather miss those little evenings, when I literally had to chase you down for a minute of your time.” He rolled his head over at her with a smirk. “The thrill of the hunt.”

“Did you bring me all the way out here just to play predator-and-prey?” she teased, leaning on her side, propped up by her elbow.

“No. Also that sounds like a most wonderful game. Maybe I’ll be the prey this time…” he insinuated with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. She couldn’t help but break into a smile. 

“Right Draco. As if you could handle letting me have that kind of power. You always like to think you’re in charge.” She leaned towards him, her arm sweeping in close, her fingers trailing up along his chest. Every step her fingers took she felt a little ticklish flinch from him, trying to remain unaffected. “You. Like. Control.”

Sod it all she was right. Was she ever wrong? He hadn’t bore witness to it yet.

But his reflexes were quick. Or perhaps, she knew exactly what he was going to do and allowed him to do it anyways. Either way, with a snake’s speedy strike, she was on her back and he was looming over her, one hand supporting himself, the other sweeping loose curls from her face.

“Alright, you win.” He said. “I rather like hunting, knowing what the prize is.”

“Do you think I’m defenseless like this?” she countered.

“Hardly. You’re probably even more dangerous.” Dangerously tempting.

She mentally applauded his astute observation. She’d had relentless defensive maneuvers taught from this very position, honed into her like a native language. If anybody got her down like this, she knew several ways of injuring her would-be attacker. But currently, she was in no danger. Hell, he wasn’t touching any part of her except strands of hair.

“I didn’t exactly plan this…” he confessed.

“It seems that you hardly ever plan anything these days Draco.”

~Only when it comes to you. Everything becomes so intoxicatingly chaotic.~

“I…” he swallowed the lump in his throat. “I want to kiss you right now, but if I do, I may not stop.”

Hair rustling against her robe, she nodded. “I know.” It took every ounce of self-control she had to not nibble her lip or even dart her tongue out nervously to dampen them, not with him so close, being just as tempted as he was. “I could always punch you though, surely that would quell your urges.”

“Ever the charmer.” he smirked with a laugh in his voice. “No need for violence, I’ll move.” It was a delayed reaction though, which seemed impossibly slow to the point of non-existent, but he finally did pull back and settle himself to sit on his robe, giving himself a few heartbeats to regain control. All the while it felt as if she held her breath, she dared not move nor blink, and it was a mixture of relief and longing that he had kept his word and refrained from his impulses.

Damn that high society pureblood etiquette, the Force was strong with that one.

She sat upright and tucked her knees up under her skirt, waiting for him to reveal what he’d promised to show her. Although she had a pretty good inclination as to what it was, she still wasn’t sure exactly what to expect.

He held the leather bound journal in his hands. “I’m pretty sure you already know what this is. But the thing is…I haven’t shown it…I couldn’t show it…”

Honestly, it was far more endearing when he was like this. Slightly unsure, stumbling over his words, trying to meet her eye and flushing furiously. He was raw and real, no clever witty remarks to mask the nervousness, no façade to hold onto. If only he could be more like this, but she knew this was only for her, which made it even more special.  
She may not be an artist, or a writer or even a theologist, but she wasn’t fond of public speaking-not to be confused with answering a question and giving a little background information to go with it-and she knew how vulnerable it felt to have to have hand over a sensitive piece of material for someone to judge. He was trusting her. Not to laugh, nor scrutinize, or to say nothing at all. He was bearing a part of his soul. It needed to be treated with care.

He untied the journal, turned it around, and handed it to her.  
…………………………

The first few pages were typical artist doodles, fleshing out the roundness of eyes, the perspective points, the natural creases of the skin around them. Several pages of refining the details of the shapes of noses, lips, even ears…Some were scribbled out halfway through their sketch, others were hastily drawn with tiny notes written by, and others were fully rendered sketches, some even in color.

The first few drawings of her, they were rough and drawn in haste, her hair always a wild mass he couldn’t quite nail down. Several pages to follow focused on hair, how it curled, how it looked pinned up, braided, blowing in a non-existent wind against a blank model from the shoulders up.

She found that when he struggled with a particular feature, the next half dozen pages were solely dedicated to perfecting it.

Her hands were next. Holding books. Lifting teacups. Petting Crookshanks. Even one embarrassing image of her nibbling away at one particular stubborn nail she as read. She was surprised at the amount of detail he put into how her finger pressed against her lip and the tips of her teeth darting out.

“You…really…paid attention…” she managed to choke out in her breathless awe. Honestly, she was not expecting such dedication to detail on features she gave little thought to. Sneaking a quick glance now, she noticed her fingernails were uneven and slightly dirty. How did that not bother him when he prided himself on cleanliness and always looking pristine?

He was sitting with his knees up, arms draped over and locking around at his shins, shoulders hunched up and head low in the most nervous pose she’d ever seen his body in. He wasn’t meeting her eye either as if anticipating heavy criticism. “I studied you.” He confessed quietly, the words almost swallowed by the breeze. “I couldn’t stop…watching. Even when I was angry that you’d yet again bested me with a grade and I just wanted to throw something…I still couldn’t stop.”

She turned another page, finding her sitting in the library-alone-stacks of books and parchment all around, her cheek resting in her palm, eyes half closed. Another was of her sitting in the courtyard, Crookshanks in her lap. Following that was her with that fireball of a birthday cake the Weasley’s had brought to the Gryffindor table, all aglow in soft watercolor right before she blew them out. The next one was of her, standing at the top of the staircase, a vision in pink, hair styled upon her head, the shadowy silhouette sketched in black and white down at the corner of the stairs as if awaiting her, as a halo of light illuminated her from behind.

“You were like a lighthouse in a dark sea.” He said, tilting his head upwards once she finally managed to pull herself away from the beautifully sad image. He had colored her in, and left himself undone.

She didn’t know what to say. These drawings covered several years’ worth of silent observation, of secret longing, of a desire kept hidden deep down. For every feature he’d ever insulted her for having, he meticulously drew over and over again until he had it in near photo-realistic quality, perfected in a way that perhaps her own parents couldn’t have memorized-after all, the majority of her years were spent at Hogwarts now, where she and Draco saw each other every day since they were adolescent, and time with them was granted to a few holiday breaks.

They’d watched each other grow, not that she had particularly bothered with those details as he was always trying to tear her down in one way or another, so she’d developed a sense of Malfoy radar where she wouldn’t notice him until he opened his mouth, and then she’d make a hasty retreat after their nasty spats. She never appreciated the softness of his hair, the beauty of his eyes, the curves of his lips or his scent until now. It felt like she was meeting someone new who just so happened to have the same name as her bully, who spoke with his voice and wore his clothes but was anything from how she had perceived.

With a slight tremble in her hand, she turned another page. And another. Again until she landed on the one that sucked the breath out of her lungs. Her sleeping on the sofa her first night in the Slytherin dorm. She turned the following page but couldn’t see it with the wet film of tears building up in front of her eyes. Feeling the droplet splash against the top of her hand, she set the journal down, still open faced, as wiped away at her eyes.

“What’d I do?” his head popped up, terrified he’d somehow offended her.

“This isn’t fair.” She sniffed. “Everything you ever made fun of me for…All these years…Every insult…every day you just had to start something…You made me hate you and all the while…” she gestured to the book, “All the while-this-this was the true you, and you never let me see that!” her voiced had become shrill. 

He hunched his head down. “I know.”

“Oh, you know? That’s it?” she jumped to her feet. “You are the biggest contradiction I have ever met, and probably ever will. I have never believed it possible to be one thing and its complete opposite at once, but you certainly have proved me wrong. How could you do this? How could you convince everyone with as little as two brain cells that you viewed me as unworthy of my magic and was worthless as a Squib and secretly pine for me? For years? Why?”

Tears streamed down her face. She didn’t know whether she was hurt, angry, or completely flustered by the obvious gift and confession. Perhaps all three. Why indeed.

“I had to.” came his softly spoken reply, filled with remorse. 

“It’s not fair…” she repeated, her voice just as broken.

“Perhaps this was a bad idea…” he said. “I should’ve just burned this like the first one.”

“First one?” she echoed. “Burned?”

He turned his head. “My first journal…” he sighed. “It was…discovered….I had to convince my father…” he squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting the bitter memory of that beating to be revealed. He had to fess to the truth, he found the young witch attractive, but he didn’t know her blood status then. It wasn’t until he done quite some deep research and discovered the truth, but by then, he’d already known that he couldn’t just ignore her. But his father had beaten it out of him, made him burn the journal, all proclaiming that it was for his own good, that he not be tempted by the impure Mudblood and taint the family line.

And then they had crossed paths in Flourish & Botts, his father tapping his shoulder lightly to set him aside as he gazed down at the fiery temptress that had caught his son’s eye. “Oh yes, Draco’s told me all about you…” he purred in that velvet voice laced with poison. Unfortunately, he had. He’d accidentally revealed his darkest secret and paid bitterly for it.

Second Year became the year he resented her just as much as he adored her.

“It was the only course of action to take.” He continued, imploring her to understand. “I had been careless, I was punished, and I had an act to maintain. So you’re right, it isn’t fair. None of it has been.”

He slowly got to his feet. “I was hoping this would be enough, for you to trust me, for you to…believe me…maybe even…see yourself, as I always have.”

Her hands rested over her mouth, big brown eyes searching into his grey ones and seeing nothing but the truth. She knew when those eyes were cold and hard and filled with venom, but to see them open and honest was as different as night and day. Well, he is a Gemini after all; he can be two different sides of himself. But this one was one she had never known existed, never prepared for encountering, and it struck deep in her heart that she was probably the first to ever witness it.

She could have him drink Veritaserum and confess all his sins and feelings-but just the act of requiring that truth enforcing potion would be a violation of trust, regardless of the words spoken. If he so badly wished it and wanted it hard enough, her trust would have to gained by honest words and actions, just like everybody else’s that had earned it.  
The dates in the corner of each page were chronological. The progression of refinement evident. The additional detailing more noticeable with every piece. This book was a study of her for almost three years. Some pages had little ink blots and smudges that bled into the one after, some pages had edges curled from drying watercolors, and some pages were of memories so set in stone that only someone who had been present would’ve known about it. And he had been. Lurking in the shadows, just out of her peripheral, right around the edge of a wall or bookshelf, or even across a classroom, he was concealed in darkness with just the barest touch of her light pulling him towards her.

He had signed up for Art Class as a means to escape, only to find himself a stone in front of a blank page with nothing else on his mind but her. And so he drew, page after page, bringing her to life with his imagination and gentle encouragement from his professor. It was a safe place to release his pent up obsession, and Theo eventually caught on. When he’d brought Blaise and Theo into his confidence of what he’d accomplished at Yule, he’d broken the invisible seal on that taboo subject they’d always wanted to openly discuss, and now here they were, all friends like they had been for years. How easily she had slipped into Slytherin robes and under their skin and into their hearts. Like she had belonged there all along.

Maybe it was too much. Maybe he should’ve gone with just one drawing, or perhaps five…but the whole book? He watched the cogwheels spin behind her eyes as she replayed every encounter they’d ever had up til now. He’d been an absolute bastard, spitting fire and seeing her eyes burn with unshed tears as his friends laughed with glee. (Or so called friends, Crabbe and Goyle’s opinions didn’t amount to a pile a of hippogriff shit to him anymore) He could feel the tumultuous past of theirs, every vitriolic word that truly masked ones of admiration, how she tried fitting the two puzzle pieces together when clearly they weren’t symmetrical. 

She was everything he’d ever wanted and couldn’t have. And he tortured himself as much as he did with her, just so she could feel a modicum of what he was going through.

He had handed her a torch, and now waited for her to set him ablaze for all his past wrongdoings.  
………………………..

“Oi, was wondering when you’d finally show up.” Theo drawled as Blaise made his grand entrance into the Great Hall. “Have fun plucking some Raven feathers?”

Blaise stopped midway through attempting to sit. “And just how in Salazar’s name do you even know about that?”

Theo chuckled. “An observant friend. Who by the way, had to help escort Malfoy to the Infirmary after class but you were too busy being a flirt to notice.”

Blaise plunked down. “Potter.” He stated with a snort. “Why is it I always miss out on the fun stuff? Alright, so where’s Slytherin’s favorite couple now?”

Theodore shrugged. “Now that one I don’t have an answer for. No one knows where those two flitter off to and that’s fine by me, they need their own little lover’s spot.” He waited a moment for dramatic effect. “He brought the sketchbook.”

Blaise flipped open his book to a random page, not even paying attention to it anymore. “You finally convinced him?” He’d only been told of them, but hadn’t seen the drawings himself. Draco kept that journal securely hidden since the first one had been destroyed. “Oh…I hope he knows what he’s doing.”

At this Theo had a laugh. “Probably not. Probably winging like he usually does and yet somehow still landing on his bloody feet.”

“If she hasn’t knocked him off of them you mean.”  
…………………………..

Draco didn’t expect to land on his feet. He didn’t expect to land on his bum either.

He fully expected to end up flat on his back, bloody in some way, eyes gazing listlessly at the clouds above and have his ears ring with verbal lashings he no doubt deserved.   
But somehow, she managed to catch him off guard once again by flinging her arms around his neck as their chests collided, the force knocking him back and down, a rightful kick in his arse, as she then pulled his face close to hers and among the tears and laughs, kissed him fully and wholly as she straddled his lap.

Between confusion and elation his brain flickered with delayed reaction, finally gaining control of his body and helping him push himself upright so he could bring his arms around to hold at her waist as his mouth responded to hers. He still couldn’t register everything she was saying, half sentences that were borderline wracked with sorrow as well as brimming with joy and even a touch of shy modesty at being so thoroughly observed.

She hadn’t pushed him away. Nor had she screamed obscenities and accusations of pretense. She hadn’t busted his nose for a second time nor hit his tender manly bits, and bless Morgana, she hadn’t cursed him either. Instead she was wrapped around him, pinning him in place, devouring his face and thanking him.

He’d never felt more grateful for his friend’s advice in his entire life until now.

Before he could drown himself in poetic analogies to express his inner monologue and perhaps say too much, the wind kicked up, and pages of the sketchbook ripped free and danced in the air around them. Immediately, the two broke apart and made a mad scramble to collect the loose pages before they could get far and end up in the wrong hands. Or land in the damn pond.

One unfortunate sketch flew upward and skewered itself on the thin twig-like extension of a branch. Draco stiffened at the sight and raised his wand, but Hermione stopped him.

“No, a levitation spell will only rip it more.” She explained that the magic would only do as it was ‘programmed’ to do and not involve the gentleness of a human component to wiggle it free.

“Hate to break it to you but I’m no expert tree climber.” He dryly remarked. “Not exactly an encouraged pastime of pureblood upbringing.”

“And yet they plop you right on a broom at age eleven and expect you to be fine.” She scoffed, rolling her eyes as she slipped off her shoes and yanked down her socks to his abject horror.

“You’re not…?” he pointed upwards.

“I am.” She answered. “If I allowed you and you broke your royal neck, then where would we be?”

He opened his mouth to retort but nothing came out as she made a running go at the tree, jumped against its trunk and while pressing her bare foot to it, reached for the lowest setting branch and grabbed hold, using her feet to propel her upwards. He watched in rapt fascination as she deftly and nimbly weaved between the tree’s limbs with the grace of a feline until she reached the poor drawing, lightly flapping against its imprisoned hold. With gentle coaxing, the paper was free with no further damage. She lowered herself to a crouch and dropped it down for him to catch and repair, adhering it back into the sketchbook with the rest before tying it closed.

He turned around to see her still perched in the tree.

“You read alone, climb trees, rescue disgraced house elves…Is there anything you don’t do?”

“Fly.” she replied, spreading her arms as if she were a bird.

Oh but you could if you wanted to, he thought. You could do anything.  
……………………


	48. Courting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco starts putting his wooing skills in action, and it appears that Hermione needs help understanding just what that means.

THE WEEK of April 17-21st, 1995

Ever since that emotional revelation on Monday, Hermione was acutely aware of Draco’s subtle attentions to her when he believed her focus was elsewhere. It was anything but. Although they sat next to each other at the Great Hall table, she could see through the draping curls framing her face when he would turn ever so slightly to drink her in. At first, she thought it was her imagination, but it happened far too frequently for it to be anything other.

“You know, sometimes I wish you still sat at Gryffindor,” He said, catching everyone’s attention regardless of how they responded. When he knew she’d turned her head to demand why he followed through with “So that way I could steal glances at you without you noticing.”

She blushed and blinked rapidly, as if her eyelashes could produce enough of a fanning breeze to cool her cheeks. The endearment received mixed reactions of fellow Slytherins pretending to gag-Theo and Blaise, along with Harry-and others fawned-mainly Tracey and Millicent-with Daphne rolling her bored blue eyes and Neville smiling warmly at Hermione while secretly holding Pansy’s hand under the table.

On Tuesday his owl swooped in with its usual monthly box of sweets, to which he opened energetically and dug out a slender box of imported sugar quills-which he made a non-too-subtle show of giving to her, with a peck to her cheek. Other candies he distributed to surrounding friends, consisting of dark chocolate frogs, licorice wands, and Frost Fairy Mints.

“Oh hey, if you get the rainbow filter Newt Scamander I’m calling dibs.” He said to Harry before he opened up the frog. “I don’t have that one yet and I’m not letting it slip by due to a fit of generosity.”

“Heaven forbid.” Harry replied, emerald eyes skyward as he peeled back the opening and grabbed the frog before it could leap away. The enchanted face on the card though, was Gellert Grindelwald. Draco already had all three different versions of him so he wasn’t interested: regular, black and white, and rainbow filtered-the wizarding version of holographic.

“Why doesn’t Honeydukes carry dark chocolate frogs? These are amazing!” 

Draco shrugged. “For some reason they fell out of popularity but if a certain popular newsworthy Slytherin says she likes them I’m sure they’re bound to bounce back.” He said with a wink.

She rolled her eyes. “Nice try Draco but I’m done with interviews.”

“Oh please Hermione? These are the best frogs I’ve had in my life!” Harry pleaded.

She pushawed at him. “Use your own fame you dolt.”

When Wednesday rolled along he wasn’t there to greet her in the morning, nor was he at the table when they headed in for breakfast. As she sat there concerned but otherwise still surrounded in good company, she froze when she felt a hand touch her back, when she spun around she was greeted with a single bright yellow dandelion and a pair of grey eyes smiling at her before tucking it behind her ear.

Pansy slightly tsked as she shook her head, fully now believing that Draco Malfoy was a complete and utter fool head-over-heels for the silly witch who liked weeds. She was going to have to educate that poor girl into appreciating a more acceptable flower, least she wanted Draco to continue looking like an arse.

He didn’t need any help in that department come Thursday when another package was delivered by owl, heavily plopped by the poor bird as he struggled to not knock into other owls dropping their newspapers and letters, which landed close enough to flick the spoon out of Hermione’s bowl and splash soup across the front of her button up shirt.  
“Ulysses!” Draco admonished, flinging his hand at the eagle-owl.

“You still better give him a treat Draco, it was an accident.” She said, wiping herself down with a napkin.

Draco lazily flicked a cutlet of beef into the air for the mighty bird, who swooped and caught it far more gracefully than the delivery of his gift before taking off. Everyone turned their attentions onto her as she tore open the wrapping to reveal a book of Shakespeare’s sonnets.

“Oh!” she said, finding the gift abrupt and unexpected. And sadly, a book she already had.

“I thought you might enjoy that.” He stated, noticing how stiff and shocked she was.

“I do!” she replied far too quickly and loudly. “I mean, yes, I do love Shakespeare. I have many of his works in my collection at home…” Her eyes darted around to their little audience. 

“But…” he could tell there was a ‘but’ coming.

“I…actually…already…have this book.” she dragged out slowly, embarrassingly slowly, enunciating each word as if it was painful to say.

There was an explosive silence for a two solid seconds.

Draco smacked his lips together. “Course you do,” he said, nodding, “Yeah, I mean, why wouldn’t you? Obviously.” The words just kept coming, he couldn’t stop them, nor the dismissive shrugs and scoffs as he fidgeted with his sleeve and was the furthest thing from convincing any of them that he was by any means fine with the situation. “Well now you have a copy you can read here, right?”

Her furrowed brow and tightly pressed lips was all the confirmation he needed. He loosened his necktie and then abruptly excused himself from the table.

“Oh shit.” Theo sighed.

Pansy drummed her fingers along the table top. “That was painful to watch.”

Even Harry felt embarrassed. Very embarrassed, for he was the one to tell Draco about Shakespeare and set him on this path.

Hermione looked at her fellow Slytherins with guilty eyes. “What do I do? I couldn’t lie to him. Right?”

“No you’re right; lying about it would’ve made it worse. I don’t think he fully thought it out though. You might want to check to see if it’s been personalized or something.” Blaise said. “I’m gonna go see him.”

“This is my fault.” Harry said. “I told him you read Shakespeare. He wanted to know some things about you…guess he wanted to surprise you.”

She solemnly nodded. “So that’s how he knew about the dandelions…” She hadn’t had the opportunity to ask him the day previous.

“Which are considered a weed for the most part.” Neville pointed out. “From the family of Asteraceae, but they do serve a purpose in many medicinal uses. Botanists consider them to be an herb.”

“Yes, why on earth would you like those?” Pansy asked.

Hermione smiled wistfully. “Because in the muggle world, we pick them up when they’ve gone fluffy and blow the little seeds while making a wish. I know it’s childish and silly, but it always resonated with me that we had our own belief in magic and that was somehow one of the ways to make a wish come true.”

“As cute as that sounds, you’ve got to select a favorite flower that he can actually send you a proper bouquet of. Or at least send you a single blossom for you to tend to in your spare time.” Pansy stated flatly.

Hermione drummed her fingers along the hardback cover of the gifted book. How to choose when there were so many? Did it honestly matter so much?  
…………………….

“Draco, come out.” Blaise sighed, leaning against the door of the stall next to the one currently hiding a sulking and humiliated Slytherin known for dramatics. “You know she was just trying to be polite. Or would you have rather she lie and say she didn’t have a copy-and then hide the one she brought from home?”

He could hear a muffled groan as Draco ran his hands over his face.

“It was still a thoughtful gesture, you know she appreciates that.”

There was a harrumph.

“Come on, what’d you expect? The girl eats books left and right! You’re probably not the first bloke that’s done this you know…”

A disgruntled snort rippled in the hollowed lavatory.

Blaise tilted his head back and breathed his sigh in quietly. Salazar give him strength.

“For fuck’s sake, come out of there before Moaning Myrtle gets the idea you’re going to off yourself and be her boyfriend.”

There was the sliding of the bolt before the door swung open and a disheveled Draco emerged from the toilet. While not evidently crying, his eyes were certainly red with stress as he pondered over his rookie mishandling. His hair had been thoroughly punished with his wallowing. Drama queen through and through.

“Now that you’re done throwing a fantastic pity party, why don’t you actually go talk to your witch rather than keep guessing at what she wants from you? Merlin’s balls, I thought you’d had some sort of breakthrough on Monday! Did you actually talk at all or did you just suck each other tongues until dinner?”

Draco opened his mouth to retort but then closed it. He wasn’t entirely wrong.

Blaise threw his head back again. He’d develop a crick in his neck at this rate. “Have you completely forgotten everything you’ve ever been raised upon when wooing witches or are you just some polyjuiced idiot masquerading as Draco Looney Malfoy?”

The teasing nickname in place of his father’s indeed struck the right chord as Draco’s eyes snapped fiercely at his friend as he whirled on him with a pale finger right in his face and a ferociously barked “Fuck you!” from his lips in a fiery sneer.

“Ah, now that’s better.” Blaise calmly replied, completely unruffled. “Almost thought we’d lost you there for a moment.”

“How the hell am I supposed to come back from that embarrassing display?” he thundered, storming a pathway along the stalls. Yes, his pride had just plummeted, but he also felt foolish for not anticipating she might’ve already owned that very book, and now it looked as if he didn’t know her as well as he ought to.

“The same way you always bounce back when you’ve been trounced, by making a joke of it.”

Draco snorted. “Right. You realize that usually meant taking it out on her and Potter. Can’t exactly do that if they’re our friends and this is clearly my fuck up.”

Wow, did he just hear that correctly? ‘clearly my fuck up’. Blaise couldn’t hide how high his eyebrows just reached upon hearing that statement out of the former Draco “My father will about this!” Malfoy. Wooing Granger and calling Harry Potter his friend? Feeling emotions like humiliation and remorse? Was this the same kid who called her a Mudblood since second year relentlessly and did everything in his power to undermine every sodding thing they did together?

“You’re absolutely mad for her.” He said, the epiphany rolling out of his mouth before he stop it.

Draco halted in his pacing.

“Look at you, completely knackered over trying to impress her and acting a right fool all week…You…” his voice started cracking with laughter, “You’re utterly in love. Oh my…” he bowed over as the laughter took precedence, convulsing through his body as he leaned onto the stall door to keep upright.

As the Italian guffawed like a buffoon, the young English wizard pondered his choice in friends as Blaise was no comfort or help at all to him now as he practically died bringing himself to tears, fanning his face and taking forever to wind down. For once, he wasn’t missing being on the scene of something involving Draco and it was absolutely marvelous.

“…besotted little dragon…” Blaise continued, almost turning purple in the face from lack of an appropriate breath.

Draco huffed indignantly and stormed out of the bathroom, being sure to slam the door as hard as he could upon his dramatic exit, stomping up a mighty storm on his rampage back to the Great Hall. Huffing and puffing, fuming and stewing, all his bluster fell to his feet the instant he stepped foot in the hall and watched as she had the book open, reading aloud one of the longer sonnets to her little circle, all of them with eyes held in rapture as they felt the velvet embrace of the classic poem read with such reverence and poise.

Ears strained from the nearby Ravenclaw table, people half-turned in their bench to pay attention as she read clearly, each word flowing off her tongue and becoming a song to all eardrums, conjuring images of rose petals and sunsets and knights kneeling before their lady loves. Lady loves leaned against their wizards, hands held under the table, heads tilting in close with sighs of content as they imaged themselves in place of the characters.

Neville and Pansy. Cedric and Cho. Other couples he hadn’t bothered to learned names of. Theo leaning in ever so slightly onto Harry’s shoulder….  
What? Really?   
No….then again…but…well….  
oh that explains some things….

He reddened with the thought. Not like he had a reason to get Potter out of his life, but if THAT ever happened there’d be no getting rid of him from then on. It dawned on him long ago that Hermione was a package deal with Harry and Ron-hence his apprehension to approach her for so long-they were a magical triad of comrades that only parted when gender based needs required it. Now with Ron so succinctly out of the picture-and the catalyst giving him his opening-Harry wasn’t such a prat as he thought, and honestly didn’t mind having around so much. And now he was beginning to see why Theo had been in remarkably high spirits and the number one supporter of his budding relationship with Hermione.

Hermione…

Watching her read out loud was suddenly hitting him differently than watching her do it alone in the confined sanctuary of the library. She was entrancing. Mesmerizing. Alluring. Seducing the masses with her eloquent lexicon, hitting notes within her melodic recital to emphasize a deeper emotion, one that could only be read by one who knew the author meant for it to be so. She was invoking the voice of the long deceased author, speaking his prose and awakening a deeper need within the souls of her captivated audience, triggering something that had faded with the centuries gone by…

Romance.

As Luna would so accurately point out, there were wrackspurts floating above everyone’s heads, fueled by the power of Shakespearean sonnets.

But all he could see was this glow, an angelic light beaming in from the midday sun and striking her hair as her head tipped low to read the last line before turning the page, shifting her head upward just enough that it lit her face in golden light. The Great Hall was her auditorium. Lunches grew cold and sat abandoned in lieu of the impromptu reading session. Anyone who gave so much as a snort of disgust was promptly smacked and shushed. They could either sit and listen, or leave.

Even as she completed the first sonnet of choice, there were little murmurs begging for another. She smiled, flipping through the pages expertly. “Alright, I have one.” She announced and cleared her throat, shooting a quick glance at Draco, as if she’d known he’d been standing there for the indiscriminate amount of time that he had been.

“Sonnet 126: O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy pow'r  
Dost hold time’s fickle glass, his sickle hour,  
Who hast by waning grown, and therein show’st  
Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self grow’st—  
If nature, sovereign mistress over wrack,  
As thou goest onwards still will pluck thee back,  
She keeps thee to this purpose: that her skill  
May time disgrace, and wretched minute kill.  
Yet fear her, O thou minion of her pleasure;  
She may detain, but not still keep, her treasure.  
Her audit, though delayed, answered must be,  
And her quietus is to render thee.”

With a soft press of the cover to meet its bindings, she concluded the little lesson in Shakespearean lore, smiling gratefully at her friends for listening and taking interest. Lunch was coming to an end, some students filing out of the hall while others went back to finishing their grown-cold meals before gathering their bags. Draco’s legs seemed to have failed him, grown roots and planted him to become one with the floor until nudged by Blaise to move along or moved by the little crowd surging forward.

Numbly, Draco followed, quiet as a mouse as Blaise led them back to their spot. He didn’t catch the look or signal that he must’ve shot at them, so fixated he was on Hermione and the book that Pansy could’ve lift her shirt and he wouldn’t have noticed. No one mentioned anything about his earlier fumble; it seemed forgotten in the wake of being bathed in the sonnet’s cleansing spell.

As soon as Hermione realized Draco was coming back to his spot beside her, she felt the odd flip in her stomach and squeezed her hands around the thick binding in anticipation.

‘Don’t apologize. Don’t apologize. Don’t apologize.’ she repeated over and over again. She hadn’t done anything wrong; she had nothing to apologize for. But that reflex was so hard to quell.

“I-” she started.

“That was beautiful.” he said, sounding as breathless as a man having a religious experience. Perhaps, or maybe the words jokingly thrown at him in jest rang true, and he was only realizing it. But all Draco knew was that he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Not now, and not ever.

Stopping her prepared apology, she beamed and cradled the book to her chest. “Thank you. It surprises me how many wizards here don’t know the works of William Shakespeare, he wrote so many highly influential literary pieces that have transcended the centuries into modern culture!”

“You’re beautiful.” He continued on as if she hadn’t said a word, eyes fixed, watching her face turn crimson.

She coughed in a nervous tick, aware that they were still in present company. “Ahhh, thanks…” she murmured in a low voice heavily dipped with shy acceptance. He’d never been so attentive like this…in front of people.

“We’re going to be late if we don’t get a move on.” Theo called to the lovestruck blond who gave only the slightest nod to convey that he’d heard.

“Draco are you alright? I mean I realize you felt emb-”

She was silenced by the pressure of his lips to hers, soft and quick, but a kiss nonetheless that came with a gentle caress. “I’m sorry about that, about the book I mean.” he clarified with that little smirk crawling its way up his lip. “I think it’s high time I treat you like the proper girlfriend you are, like you deserve to be. No more boundaries and secrets.”

She pressed a hand to his forehead to feel for a fever. “Are you well?”

He picked up her school satchel and slung it over his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get to class.” he replied. “I still expect you to give me a run for those house points or have you forgotten?”

Across the Great Hall, Angelina Johnson smiled like she’d caught the Snitch. Her camera had snapped some prize winning moments just now and she’d bet her family vault that while every picture may be worth a thousand words, these pictures just now would have been ten thousand.  
……………………..

“He’s beyond saving now, just look at him.” Blaise whispered to Theo at their two-seater desk in Transfiguration. “You could knock his arse over with a feather right now and he’d probably say thank you.”

“And he didn’t say anything back?”

“Other than a good old F-U, not a thing. And when I caught up to him in the Great Hall he looked Stupefied and enchanted. I tell ya, he’s in. All the way down to the bottom of that rabbit hole.”

Theo contemplated the mental state of their precious blond boy as he turned to his project, forcing himself to concentrate on his spell work. Draco had been weird-for him-all week and they weren’t through yet, there was still room for more idiocrasy from the wooing wizard and he only prayed Hermione could rein him in before he started shouting his feelings from the Astronomy tower.  
……………………..

Finally having a rare moment of privacy in her own room, Hermione changed out of her school uniform and put on some simple lounging clothing of no consequence, a baggy tee shirt and sweatpants. Crookshanks was rubbing loose orange furs onto her pants leg as she pulled her hair up in a scrunchie, her mind a whir of spinning gears as she recollected the awestruck behavior of her strange Slytherin Prince.

Every time she thought she had him pegged he switched up the pattern and threw her for a loop. Today had been the most brazen day yet, she could only wonder what he had in store for tomorrow if he wasn’t admitted to the Infirmary for a fever of some sort or tossed in St. Mungo’s for an evaluation.

A knock on her produced a groan from her that she couldn’t suppress. God, now what did he want? Was he going to start serenading her at night? But a collective gaggle of giggles quickly squashed that thought. Those were clearly feminine giggles. Suddenly on her feet, she unwarded her door and open it to find a trio of Slytherin witches just brimming with smiles and inside jokes that they were near bursting with.

Her room was luckily an appropriate size for three guests, granted that two didn’t mind sitting on the floor. The two being Tracey and Millicent, apparently even among purebloods and half-bloods, there was a hierarchy. Pansy took the spot on her bed next to her, pulling out a basket of beauty products. 

Uh oh… 

Before she knew it, she was sitting on the floor of her own room, Pansy fingering through her hair with product as Tracey and Millie each took a hand and trimmed her fingernails to an even length, glossing them over with deep green polish, and decorating them with sequins in the shape of silver snakes. Their knowledge of Muggle beauty products astonished her for surely she would’ve considered them too stuck up to deign themselves with such things, but yet another misconception of them had fallen by the wayside.

They gabbed on about things she should expect from Draco-like gifts and grand gestures-and do, like wear tokens to show her appreciation and devote her attention to him. Despite all her protesting that she already did, apparently it was not up to pureblood standards. She argued her case by reminding them just who they were currently dolling up and that she couldn’t help it if her best friend was a boy, and that she put academics before flirtations. 

But through it all, the girls were good natured about their critique and gave her no reason to suspect they were setting her up for failure. After all, they were the three girls among the entire house that were actively on her side and had accepted her resorting. True yes, it stemmed from her standing with Draco and going against him usually meant Lucius Malfoy causing problems for their own parents, but they had eyes and minds of their own and could see and think for themselves. 

And besides, Millicent liked her cat.

And Tracey wanted to know how to get in a good word with Anthony Goldstein.

And Pansy was forging a courtship with Neville, a good friend of hers.

So they were going to teach Hermione Granger to become Slytherin’s very own Princess.  
…………………………..

Friday morning brought the half-bloods to her door to assist with her hair, having left it in the curlers Pansy rolled into her mane the night before despite her protesting that her hair was already wild enough. They sat her in her desk chair, and one of them produced a mirror they enlarged and adhered to her desk to make it a vanity-honestly, these witches-and she watched in fascination as the curlers slipped out and her hair cascaded down into a gentle wave like a chocolate waterfall.

Gone were the wild strays, the oddball curl that refused to stay in place. Instead it was one cohesive unit of waves-one could say it nearly looked straight-and the look was surreal. She blinked several times, taking in her reflection so she could get used to it before presenting this to the rest of the school. 

“We’re your bodyguard detail for the day.” Millie told her, picking up Crookshanks and nuzzling him like he was a kitten. Clearly, he accepted the bigger girl and her own pet otherwise she would have been retrieving her nose and eyeballs off the floor. “He’s so fluffy.” She gushed like a child fawning in a pet store.

“And half-Kneazle. Remember that.” She pointed out at the hefty creature, larger than most housecats and smarter than some of the students here. Present company excluded. He’d helped the gang in uncovering Peter Pettigrew was actually Scabbers the rat-all the more wishing they’d just let him eat the traitorous bastard-and prevented Harry from attacking Sirius with his wand before Professor Lupin arrived at The Shrieking Shack last year. She trusted Crooky better than most people now.

As if taking that as his cue, he jumped out of her arms and darted from the room to entertain himself in hunting down spiders or clawing at the ankles of those who he deemed a worthy scratching post. She never had to worry about him.

Gathering her schoolbag and taking one last glance at her reflection-because even she had to admit this look was positively Da Bomb-and flashed herself a wicked smile. Sometimes it felt good to get a bit girly.

She met with Pansy in the common room, surprised to hear that the boys had already gone ahead-at her behest, she insisted, she implored-and Pansy gave her a thorough once-over. 

Hair? Check.

Nails? Check.

Lips? Here, let’s put this on real quick. 

Uniform? Oh no you don’t, we’re leaving the top one undone, tie just a little looser, there we go….

There you go, we’ll leave that for now, after all it’s still a school day but we’ve got a Hogsmeade weekend coming up and this is good practice for it.

“Practice? Hogsmeade?” a confused Hermione echoed those bits from Pansy’s critiquing. Had she missed the memo on something? But she was shuffled along the trio, Pansy on point and the other two flanking as they marched up the stairs and down the hall towards the Great Hall.

Pansy spun on her and whispered a final bit of advice before whirling back to lead them, like the typical group of bad girls slow walking through the hallway in a high school movie scene. Pansy had a few steps ahead, that gap a strategic maneuver so Hermione’s new look could be appreciated without being overshadowed by Parkinson’s proximity. Tracey flung her strawberry blonde locks over her shoulder and laughed when the tips slapped the face of another girl as they passed, causing the group of boys to divert their attention from their conversation and mail opening. Draco had a letter that he didn’t look pleased to be holding and slipped it into his satchel, an apple wedged in his mouth as he used both hands to secure it between a pair of books. He looked up and the apple plummeted to the floor as his jaw unhinged.

Seeing Draco come undone at the sight of her more than made up for the anxiety she had welling up from his behavior yesterday. She floated along with Pansy and the girls, who no doubt had been privy to this master planning by the raven haired witch, watching every male head turn in her direction. Whether they be single or not.

Gone was the thick, frizzy mane. In its place was a silky chocolate waterfall that shone with radiance and an entire bottle of expensive detangling conditioner worth its liquid ounces in galleons. Normally nude lips were seductively outlined in a rich maroon, the tips of her cupid’s bow sharp and eye-catching. A hint of flesh at her throat was just as alluring. 

She stood there a moment, taking in the astonished faces of her male friends and even the nearby girlfriends sitting at Ravenclaw. Padma flashing her a thumb’s up and Cho winking like she knew something. Ginny smirking with delight since she knew Ron would be going purple right along with his hussy, and Luna’s silvery blue eyes looked wistful, as if she couldn’t decide she liked the look or not, or was unbothered and her mind elsewhere.

The boys however, gaped at her like she had grown a second head. Typical. Except there were no snide remarks, no snorts of laughter. They all looked astonished. Blaise leaned over and slapped Pansy a high five, congratulating her on her work. Theo honestly, being silent, was a little disturbing. Harry’s mouth puckered like a fish gasping for air. But Draco was frozen with wide eyes and a hanging jaw that forgot it was attached, until Pansy placed her hand underneath and pushed it upwards.

Neville was the first to address her. “Hermione, wow.” It wasn’t much, but from him, it certainly was.

Theo seemed to snap out of after hearing her name. “No. This has got to be the evil twin she’s been hiding all these years. She killed Hermione and took her place and now she’s come to make us all her bitches.”

Harry snort-laughed and smacked him as Blaise let out a tea-kettle whistle laugh trying to hold his shit together.

Millie and Tracey looked at each other with a satisfied nod, and then took their seat on either side of her. Hermione set her bag down and flung back a little hair that had fallen across her shoulder, giving cause to some unknown to wolf whistle in the background and a band of boys to start laughing. Draco spun around so fast Hermione was surprised he didn’t give himself whiplash. His gaze was piercing, and whoever the “wolf” was remained silent.

Hermione seated herself and started on her breakfast, a plate of flapjacks smothered in syrup, noticing the entire time that Draco hadn’t touched his food since he turned back around, nor had his eyes left her. This was the first time they were seated across from each other since her joining, and she found his relentless surveillance of her a little distracting.

“Draco, surely you’ve seen me eat a thousand times.” she sighed. “Must you stare?”

“Over a thousand times, actually.” he corrected in a soft reply. “But in all of them, you’ve never looked like this.”

“Is that a bad thing?” she inquired with just the tiniest tilt of her head and flash of her lashes that had him reaching for a cup of water and guzzling it despite his proper upbringing.

“I think you broke him Pans. Always figured it’d be his heart, but I think you broke his brain.” Theo laughed, watching his usually collected friend come apart at the seams.

“Thank you Theo. I do pride myself on my work. Besides, his heart’s already been stolen, can’t break what I don’t have access to.”

Draco nearly choked on his water.

Silverware clanked as several tablemates fell silent on that one. Daphne scoffed in boredom, breaking the spell. She’d had just about as much of this sappy shit as she could take before flipping the table. It was a lost cause and she knew it, but the loss was so much bitter to swallow knowing who had usurped her. She didn’t think she had it in her to make nice just for house point’s sake; Blaise and his sales pitch could shove it. That witch just didn’t belong here.  
…………………………

Harry and Neville retreated to their Gryffindor side of the classroom as Hermione sauntered off to the Slytherin side with her ever-growing social circle. Both boys had been filled with dread the moment she’d been resorted, wondering how she was going to survive in the House notorious for holding onto blood status. Those worries were still valid although at less of a threat than they believed, relaxing now at the sight of her surrounded in green rather than the trepidation it might’ve once brought.

Since Draco was making his intentions clear, boldly and brashly-for it wouldn’t be Draco otherwise-Neville felt more secure with his budding courtship to Pansy. He hadn’t outright asked permission to court her, it just sort of happened, after that day he returned with the basket of goods from his Gran. He told her all through Easter break that his potion partner was a lovely pureblood witch from Slytherin who had a fondness for flowers, unicorns, the color pink and would love to try some of her baked goods. 

It was all the motivation the elderly woman needed to please her shy and introverted grandson. Luckily she made enough, seeing how quickly the supply was demolished by moochers. The biggest shock was of course, seeing Hermione sit with Draco-his arm around her waist-and Harry telling him that it was official. It wasn’t until after the group split apart for their individual happenings that Pansy filled him in on the behind-the-curtain romance that he missed out on.

And hearing her explain it, without malice and jealousy, made him see that there was more to Pansy Parkinson than just that mean girl with sleek black hair that dated Draco Malfoy. She opened his eyes that there was more to Draco than the racist bully he’d been playing at, and he was beginning to believe it. The pairing actually made sense in a way; they were the brightest students of their year, and in the school. He challenged her mentally where Ron had only frustrated her. He was as proficient with his spell work just as she was, and he seemed keen enough with certain subjects like potions to actually do his work and compete for the house points.

Having Hermione as a Slytherin didn’t change a thing about her. She was clever enough, ambitious enough to get what she wanted-he learned that in his feeble attempt to prevent them from breaking curfew and sneaking off in first year-so she was well within her element. It’s a pity too many of the other Gryffindors saw it as a betrayal and kept their distance. He never thought he’d see the day that he was welcome to sit at their table during meals, let alone with Harry and Hermione. The reputation of the Snake Pit belied the true behaviors of some within the house, and he felt it odd that he could get along so well with the guys here as he still struggled to be accepted by his own lion’s pride.

He liked Pansy. She was clever and demure as well as bold. She had no problem taking the lead as he preferred to stand back, the spotlight wasn’t his forte. Her knowledge of plants rivaled his own, and they’d spent the majority of their potions class talking about their home gardens. She was a lady-in every manner of the word, with how she carried herself and spoke and drank her tea-and he was very much a gentleman. They’d only just started to seek out physical touches, and even then, they were shy and minimal, almost prudish in comparison to Ronald and Lavender snogging for all their worth, and thinking they were being discreet by finding that broom closet…He shuddered. That was just appalling.

He realized why Draco was being so….intense, for lack of a better word. He had so much to make up for, several years’ worth of insults and pranks to overwrite with kindness and affection. Given who his witch was, Hermione certainly had an air about her that lured you in, made you want to be around her and soak in a residual whiff of her brilliance. Muggle ways might be different in some aspects, but not all. Draco couldn’t resist touching her in some fashion, now that he’d been granted permission to do so. As long as he was being respectful, Neville didn’t mind that he’d catch the blond leaning in just a bit close, a touch lingering just a beat too long, watching him sniff her hair as they sat together on the bench when she’d lost her voice…

He figured if those two could get past the differences that initially wedged them apart, then there was hope for anybody, for other Slytherins and Gryffindors to put aside blood purity and social status and just see a person for who they were, robe color be damned.  
……………………..

Escaping the classroom in a trip to the lavatory, Hermione released a breath and dabbed water on her face, fanned herself and then ranted.

“He’s been staring at me all day Pans!” she started in, not even realizing she was using the nickname only bestowed onto her by fellow Slytherins.

“I know, it’s absolutely wonderful.” She replied, checking her make up.

“No it is not. It’s creepy. He’s not even trying to hide it anymore, and damn if I didn’t wish he’d go right back to that!”

“He’s just taking it all in. Come on, you have to admit even you look different with your hair like that.”

“It’s been three bloody hours! You’d think he’d have gotten his fill by now!”

Pansy chuckled. “Hermi, love, sweetheart…” she cooed, catching the brunette off guard. “Surely you realize by now that Draco is an all-or-nothing kind of wizard. His emotions are either non-existent or overwhelming. He’s really been trying to keep himself in check, honest to Merlin truth. Can’t you tell he’s absolutely mad for you? Completely nutters.”

Oh sure, she was aware of his moods. She knew he could turn on a dime, but to have so much and aimed wholly at her? That was not something she’d been prepared for.  
“If he keeps it up I’ll have him admitted to St. Mungo’s.” she sighed, palming her forehead. “But it isn’t fair Pansy…I didn’t know he’d had it for the entire time. He’s had four years of unrequited admiration and I’ve nothing but contempt and it’s not like I can just forget that and suddenly be at the same level with him just because I’m aware now.”  
Flicking her sleek black hair, Pansy turned around so she was face to face rather than speaking to her reflection. “I realize he’s kicked it up a notch. There’s probably several reasons behind it, and I’d wager that the most pressing one would be time.”

Hermione’s head jerked up. Time. They certainly didn’t have a lot left of it in the school year, the last challenge, and what would happen to them during the summer. Draco was probably having an internal panic at the thought of them not being able to experience what it meant to be a young courting couple before circumstances would force them to set that aside.

She inhaled deeply, eyes not entirely focused ahead of her as she risked her next sentence. “Pansy…Lucius thinks Snape has me under the Imperio, and that I’m his personal plaything he’ll later Obliviate so I won’t out him with the truth. He said something about his father finding his first journal, drawings of me, and that he was punished, the book burned, but he still must know that Draco has feelings-or at least an attraction for me…and this is the only way he’d accept his son even touching me…thinking he’s doing…God knows what…”

“Wow.” Pansy breathed. “I knew Lucius played dirty but that has got to be the most deplorable thing I’ve ever heard about the man, and he-” she stopped short before she said too much. “I…from things Draco has said…” she quickly fumbled. “I suppose there won’t be a visit to the Manor any time soon.”

“Or at all. And Mrs. Malfoy wants to meet me so badly. She’s such the polar opposite that I can’t believe those two ever made a child together.”

An uneasy silence filtered over the two girls.

“I’m sure you know how it’s done…but arranged marriages are not built on love Hermione. They’re built on social status, blood purity, and lucrative business partnerships. It’s all about solidifying your own little empire. Wizards can have such short lifespans you realize, so everything hinges on these teen years.” She took her arm when she realized they’d tallied far longer than just a quick run to the loo. They walked back to class in relative silence. Portraits were such terrible gossips.

It was food for thought. A healthy dose loaded with tons of little bones that needing picking out as she devoured the knowledge bestowed to her. Perhaps all she needed to do was stop trying to swim against the current just go with it. Stop trying to analyze everything and just say yes for once.

Hadn’t he already proven he was serious and sincere?

What was it that she needed to no longer doubt it all?  
………………………


	49. Doubts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Letters from the Malfoys make Draco doubt himself, and threaten to destroy everything he’s worked so hard for.

With the last vials of Pepper-up potion handed off to Dobby, another round of extractions applied to a litany of basic potions in little glass Petri dishes and the last of their homework completed for the day, Hermione stretched and popped her back loudly.

“Goodness, that sounded painful.” Harry stated. “You alright?”

She nodded. “Nothing a little soak won’t ease. You guys should get plenty of rest because I have a whole new round of techniques to teach you this weekend.”

“Just as long as you don’t pull that same stunt as last time.” Theo warned.

She made a cross motion over her chest. “You have my word.”

“What about May sixth and seventh?” Draco asked, speaking for the first time in a while, she’d noticed. He’d been oddly quiet since classes ended and they’d all retreated to the lab after dinner.

She flipped a page in her journal that she’d been using as her calendar for all their activities: brewing potions, karate lessons, study sessions for a particular subject…Next weekend would be the last in April, and then…May…a Hogsmeade weekend. One where students usually went with half the day planned for either visiting their mother or looking for a gift to send off for Mother’s Day. Same for the first weekend in June, for Father’s Day. Or sometimes, Draco went to celebrate his birthday.

“I marked all the weekends for karate practice and homework unless something more pressing occurs. I’m guessing you three want me to mark one off for a Hogsmeade day?”

They all nodded in unison, eyes going puppy dog round and imploring.

“Saturday, if you wouldn’t mind.” he added. “And wear something nice.”

She dropped her quill. “Pardon?”

“Oh come on, why else would I request the day out of our schedule?” he breathed out a little laugh. “Aren’t you supposed to be brilliant?”

“Being brilliant doesn’t make me omniscient Draco. In case you haven’t noticed, you’ve been a little hard to get a read on lately.”

Theo leaned over to Harry. “Uh oh, sounds like Mum’s angry.”

“I’m not angry Theo,” she replied in that eerily calm voice that registered annoyance. “I am perhaps just a tad frustrated at the emotional whiplash I’ve been receiving this week.”  
“Should I have said please in there somewhere?” Draco asked, full of teasing snark. She rolled her eyes at him. 

“I’ll think about it.” She said in a conversation-ending tone. She did need to consider it though. It was enough of a mood killer that she called an end to the night, besides that bath was calling her name. Before parting she asked Harry if he’d talk to Anthony and see what he thought of Tracey Davis. He gave a non-committal nod and wave as he headed off to the Gryffindor Tower and she retreated to the Slytherin dungeon with her escorts.

Millicent joined her in the bath, helping pin her hair up since today was not a hair washing day. She decided she couldn’t keep holding onto the memories of second year with the dueling club debacle and accidentally getting half-polyjuiced into her cat and found herself learning that Millicent struggled with self-esteem, stemming from her thicker build. Slytherins weren’t against insulting each other when the mood struck, and more often than not she found herself on the receiving end of plenty of Fat Girl jokes.

She found herself of course apologizing-although she had never been one of them-and offered her some placating words her mother had shared with her when she was often picked on in her Muggle school. Sure, it wasn’t the same scenario at all, but the underlying message was: you just need to accept yourself, love yourself, and nothing anyone else has to say matters.

It seemed to be all Millicent needed to hear, giving her a genuine grin. Hermione felt pretty chuffed about getting that reaction, for once, feeling as if she’d made her first Slytherin friend on her own accord, and not just as a by-product of being associated with Draco. Girls weren’t always the friendliest to get to know or trust for some reason, she’d never understood why. She didn’t envy other girls for certain attributes they possessed, boyfriends they had, clothes they wore, or even the grades they made. Yet, those were exactly the things other girls had made known they disliked her for.

Boys just seemed easier, they were simpler. Food and sports were their main topics of choice. None of them had ever seen her as Girl, not until Viktor Krum was on her arm and twirling her around the ballroom for Yule. Then boys noticed Hermione Granger. Sadly, they were all too late. There had already been a secret admirer all along, and now she was his girlfriend. 

She’d never been a girlfriend. Admired. Adored. Worshipped in such a manner that would’ve been off-putting if she were still attending Muggle public schooling than a Wizarding one, where things like this made sense. Adhering to outdated old world traditions was the norm, where life was far more fleeting and youth was a short-lived treasure that could be stolen away at a moment’s notice.

It started making sense now, why wizards and witches had betrothed ones or arranged marriages and didn’t date casually. Hadn’t her years attending this school educated her on how fraught with danger the magical world was with trolls wrecking bathrooms and dragons to best in a school competition? She was petrified for a short while in second year, along with several others, and would’ve been dead as Myrtle Warren had it not been for her hand mirror. Her young life could’ve been snuffed before it’d hardly begun.  
She’d read up on the tri-Wizard Tournament. This was the first time in nearly two hundred years that it had been in circulation due to so many causalities, and also hence why they raised the age barrier. Harry was the youngest contestant in two centuries and he’d faced Death more than any kid she’d ever known. This wasn’t some school pageant based on academics like a spelling bee or science fair, lives were hanging in the balance.

So was it any wonder that Draco was being a little…much?

After coming to that conclusion she felt a little guilty about rebuffing him for all his advances. Every time he made a grand gesture she shrank back and put up a wall-be it schoolwork or staying close to the girls rather than have him escort, or shut down any kind of conversation in the evening-she would bet that he was lying in bed right this minute asking Theodore and Blaise what he did wrong now. She dried herself briskly and threw on her ugly-enough-to-bury-Seamus-in flannel button up pajamas and was brushing her hair when there was a knock at her door.

Frankly at this point, it could be Father Christmas himself and she wouldn’t be surprised.

She pointed her wand at the door, unwarding and opening it with a flick. It was almost becoming a two-for-one spell with how often she had to do this. And there he was, dressed down but with his schoolbag slung over one shoulder. Did he still have homework?

“May I?” he asked, still throwing her mind for a tailspin that he actually had manners and knew how to use them. She nodded. He shut the door behind after stepping in. “I know you don’t get much time to yourself these days, but I wanted a moment of your time, if you will.”

She motioned for him to sit on her bed. 

He slung the bag off and sighed. “Harry told me I needed to give you space, that I’d gone and overdone it a bit. He may not be the brightest candle but he’s pretty much the only source I have for muggle ways in regards to you. He clarified that you being standoffish wasn’t a rebuttal, but confusion at how to process everything. And even Blaise…well, everyone told me I just need to actually ask you what it is you want, rather than assuming I already know.”

With a rake through his hair and the slumping of his shoulders, he then turned his head so their eyes met. He gave her a lopsided smile, still holding a hint of smirk but hopeful that his confession had cleared the air.

“I had a little come-to-Jesus meeting as well.” She replied. “Pansy and the girls, while doing all this,” she motioned to her hair and face, “said I should be more attentive to you and receptive of your gifts. But you know me, my academics always come first. And I know I’m not quite as girly as most witches, so I won’t always want to wear ribbons or flowers or pretty dresses and jewelry-which I know severely limits your options-but if I know you that’s just more of a challenge you’re willing to overcome.”

He waited in silence, knowing she was only taking a breath.

“Yes, you did well by asking Harry about some things and thinking I’d love the book-which I do-but then you assumed and barreled ahead. I knew you’d feel like I was placating you if I denied ever owning that book, or having it in my trunk from home, so I just plucked up my courage and told you the truth.” She licked her lips, trying to make sure her voice was neutral. “The number one rule to making a relationship work is communication, for both parties. We both need to open up rather than trying to be clever and thinking we already know all there is to know about each other. I mean, that’s what the rest of our lives are for. For however long this lasts, we can spend our time not only sharing but making new memories and moments for ourselves.”

Of all that, ‘for however long this lasts’ stuck out the most. So she worried there wasn’t a solid future ahead of them either. However much he worried there’d be another Viktor Krum to come along and try to sweep her off her feet, maybe she worried there’d be one too, and she’d feel like she only strung him along by not ending it sooner.  
He didn’t want that. No, he wanted to make it clear, she was it for him. He was fighting against the sands of time and all his pureblood upbringing but he’d do things the muggle way if that’s what it took for her to see it. While his heart was near ready to burst with elation that she was finally his, hers was still standing at the edge of the pool, hesitant to jump in.

“I’ll do what it takes Ma Belle; I’ll play by your rules.” He said, coming to his feet. “I’ve been approaching this whole thing in my way, not understanding why it hasn’t been enough-if anything, why it made you pull back-rather than trying to from your point of view. Which quite frankly, it makes more sense. Talking to each about our likes and dislikes, just spending time together without some grand gesture to pull off, not constantly having to go through family and friends to figure out what possible gift I could surprise you with. Hagrid acts like he’s your father, or at least an uncle, and Potter comes off all brother like, because I certainly can’t go Floo call your muggle parents and ask them permission to court you, to take you on a date, to even find out what your tastes are.”

He stepped up to her. “And I highly doubt Professor McGonagall would be willing to disparage anything to help me.” 

A ghost of a smile crested upon her lips for a brief second. “She doesn’t hate you like you think. Not once has she told me to be wary of you or has asked if I have any reason to feel unsafe or distrust you. She knows you’re watching out for me, and that is huge on its own.”

“Still her favorite?” he sniffed indignantly, he wasn’t terribly surprised by it.

Hermione cast him a teasing smile. “Still jealous?” She’d guessed long ago that he wanted to impress the ever unimpressed Minerva McGonagall of Gryffindor and make her acknowledge him, hence all his extra attentive crafting when it came to transfiguration. Always adding embellishments or taking a more complex approach, hoping for that bit of recognition of his prowess. And all he ever needed to do was just be kind to her protégé. Go figure.

“So, was that all you’d come here for?” she asked when he didn’t bite back.

He marched back over to her bed and picked up his schoolbag and for a second she feared he’d storm out from once again embarrassing himself in a way she hadn’t caught on. Instead, he flipped open the front flap and removed an envelope-actually, two-and then sat back down with a great sigh.

“One’s from Mother, got it with the sweets. The second, I haven’t opened yet…” he didn’t have to say who it was from. And the fact that he hadn’t yet spoke volumes. He was apprehensive about its contents. Even bigger unspoken volumes was that he’d even brought them, mentioned them, informing her as if she was worthy of knowing of his personal letters and family affairs. In a way, she supposed that she should be concerned of their contents; after all, she’d been privy to two distinct missives from two distinct kinds of parents. One who valued her as a person, and one who saw her as an object. 

“Ward your door?” he asked, he didn’t want the contents of these overheard-by anybody. She complied, locking and silencing the room. No one would know what would be said behind these barriers. Had anyone ever told her she’d be casting such charms while being alone in a room with Draco Malfoy she’d have died from laughter. Now, it seemed like the most common thing in the world to do. 

He opened the first envelope, elongated and embossed with Malfoy-esque designs that were no doubt patented for his family alone with the wax seal broken, but was used specifically by his mother he informed her. Apparently each member of the family had their own, as well as the family crest in general for when the letter didn’t need dictation from a singular member. That was three times more seals than Hermione would’ve guessed the family needed but there you go, one more example of their different worlds.  
Her family didn’t even use wax seals or had really dug into their ancestry to promote a family crest.

“Mother sends her greetings to the both of us.” he stated, turning the letter so she could see right in the letterhead, both their names. “I have been informed by Severus Snape of the measures taken to ensure your safety and needless to say, I am appalled at the very notion. Why, it’s positively revolting and embarrassing on my behalf that you must endure these pretenses. I am ashamed at the mental degradation in which my husband has descended while worshipping that fallen idol of his. He may not have always been a perfect gentleman but he wasn’t as lost as he’s become. It pains me that while bound to him in marriage, I cannot protect either one of you or risk running afoul by his particular company he entertains.”

“Your mother is far too kind.” Hermione said as Draco was taking a breather to continue.

“Draco darling, I am sorry I haven’t done enough to protect you from his wrath and ire, as well as whatever he has planned for that poor boy. While not taken into his confidence that does not mean I do not have my ways of learning what takes place behind closed doors. Harry Potter is in danger, as I’m sure you’re both well aware of. Severus says an alliance of sorts has been forged between the two of you due to your relationships with Miss Granger. This both a blessing and a curse, for surely your father will have a scheme for you in his letter.”

“Snape wrote to them both?” she inquired, realizing it was best that Lucius be appraised of such details before they were made public. She just hadn’t been aware that Narcissa would ever be playing a hand in this as well. Due to her “anonymous donation” to S.P.E.W. there was an article in the newspaper to raise awareness on their deplorable treatment and a poll was open for people to sign if they supported at least fair wages if elves didn’t want to be freed. It was a start.

“Be discrete with your responses, I am quite sure he searches for your letters to me. If you do write about Miss Granger please refer to her as your Pet and spare me the heartache of seeing such cruel words in ink. I do hope that the two of you have managed to find your own happiness in the midst of all this chaos and cherish it tightly. Do enjoy your next allotted Hogsmeade trip, I so look forward to receiving my usual Mother’s Day treat from you.”

Draco refolded the letter and neatly tucked it away in its envelope with care. The way he held the fine quality parchment was like that of a monk with holy transcripts. The extra attention he dedicated to handling the envelope gave him the few seconds he needed to reel his emotions in, for that letter had been difficult for him to read out loud. A chill tingled down his spine that his mother had nearly alluded to the mistreatment from his father-which he was thankful he’d read the letter alone first or else he’d had never shown it to her.

But now, the real threat rested in its envelope, waiting to be revealed. She could smell his unease like it was his shampoo. He reeked of trepidation. Before she knew it, she was out of her chair and coming up behind him, slinking her arms around and pressing her palms to his chest. One hand of his came up to rest upon them, his thumb rubbing little circles against her skin. It was just a moment, but it was all he needed. He patted her hand, her cue to release him so he could pluck the envelope off the bed.

They both settled for sitting on the floor, backs against her bedframe, her bare feet and his still shoe clad digging into the fuzzy carpet, trying to get comfortable.

“I don’t want to open this.” He admitted, but damned if he was going to let her and see something she shouldn’t.

Her heart ached for him. How does one comfort someone afraid of their own father? What does one say to someone whose whole world once hung upon their every word, and now the mere thought of opening a letter was causing them to shake? Perhaps nothing needed to be said, like that day in the greenhouse when she cried and he held her. She could do that for him. Scooting in and leaning her head against his shoulder, her left arm reaching across herself to settle on his in support. He broke the seal with an expert flick of his fingernail like he’d been doing it his whole life-and has-and held a breath as he pulled open the flap.

His grey eyes dart side to side as he skims through the letter for possible derogative comments when her hand blocks the page and tips his chin towards her. “Don’t hide it. Whatever it says, I’ll read it with you.” He doesn’t even have it in him to argue back, handing the letter over so it rests between them, her holding the other side. They read it together.

~Son,  
Excellent work with procuring the Granger girl to your side, naturally Potter is following, his loyalty his downfall. No harm is to come to him so that he may participate in the third challenge, it would arouse too many suspicions. We shall be ready for him then, whole and unharmed, he is needed for the ritual. Had you told me of your brazen scheme earlier this operation might have already swung in our favor and you would be hailed a hero among the ranks. No matter, you will make an excellent soldier in the Dark Lord’s army with your youth, infiltrating the school and getting close to Dumbledore.  
We will need to remove the White King off the board, if not directly then indirectly, by any means. Soon the Black King shall have control. Snape will keep me apprised of your progress. As long as it looks like the Granger girl is besotted with you and Potter believes it, he will trust you. You’ll receive further instruction in due time, once Crouch can securely inform us what the third challenge entails. Burn this letter and speak not of this, continue the charade.  
Remember, there are Black Knights about, closer than you think.  
Pawns are in position.  
Checkmate 6-24.  
~Lucius

The two sat in silence, rereading the letter twice, thrice. Lucius alluding to the demise of not just Potter but now Dumbledore-with him thrust on the front lines. Coded talk of chess pieces meant that others were involved, Death Eaters, like Crouch (although he failed to mention he’d be polyjuiced as Moody) had his blood running cold. Course, he believed Snape to be one of them, a trustworthy D.E. member acting undercover. As professor and student, Snape and Draco would be the perfect candidates to get close and assassinate the so-called “White King”.

“He’s given away so much information with this.” She whispered. “We can take this to Dumbledore, have Winky point out Crouch…we can protect Harry from certain death knowing the date!” her excitement rose with each statement. But one look at Draco’s face had it squashed in an instant.

“If I turn this in…I turn him in…there’s no coming back from that.” He stated numbly. “I’ll be outed as a blood traitor. Society would abandon my mother for even just being married to him, regardless of her compliancy. The Malfoy name would be torn apart by the media and the government…”

Hermione listened to him rattle off the potential things that could happen to him and his mother with a stab in her heart. He worried for their reputation, their assets, their influence. He hadn’t mention her or Harry’s lives that would be spared, and potential others. Somehow that made it all worse, that she expected it, yet she had hoped…  
“…and that’s just to start.” He continued, “But if I don’t…If I let him slip by with this…you and I can never be together. Potter could die. Dumbledore… Anyone of muggle blood will be picked off…” His eyes watered as he met her equally watery gaze.

Her breath caught in her throat. “Draco…you have to decide…what’s most important…”

But for the life of him, his voice couldn’t say.

Quickly, he folded the envelop back up and crammed it into his schoolbag. His hurried actions kept Hermione from being able to touch him and pull him back as he seemed ready to Apparate on the spot were they able to despite their age and the anti-wards set on students to prevent those of age to simply skiv off classes. His chest was tight and breaths short. He needed to think.

“Draco wait…” she called softly. What she read had scared her, but not nearly as much as his body language right now. He was in turmoil.

“I…I need to process this.” He stuttered out. “I have to think…”

She blinked back the tears that threatened to flow with the soul-crushing fear that his affection for her simply did not weigh enough in comparison to the love of his mother, the duty he was raised with to honor the family name and the lifestyle he’d known nothing else but. 

-Of course, why would I even compare? It’s one thing to say you care and kiss like crazy, but when it comes down to the wire…I just don’t add up.-

“You…” her lips trembled. What could she say? Actually tell him to choose? Between his family and her? What did she expect?

He shook his head, muttering under his breath, already lost in his own mind’s maelstrom. When he slung the bag upon his shoulder and stood to his full height she took a step back. In just the flicker of an instant, everything changed, and cold dread filled her chest. His eyes were full of doubt. Hers, full of fear.

Once he realized that look aimed up at him he knew he’d already lost.

“You can’t tell Potter or Nott about this.” He immediately said, his voice stern. 

She opened her mouth to protest, but he came at her with another verbal command: blackmail. “You do and I’ll tell Potter about what Crabbe did. Are we clear?”

Fear was momentarily pushed aside by Anger. How he could easily dismiss her so and take what was once a promise of confidence and use it against her. She wished she could feign ignorance at his sudden shift in behavior but that damn letter had flipped a switch in him. He was in the murky grey area caught between being her boyfriend Draco and the bully Malfoy.

When her lack of verbal confirmation had yet to satisfy his request-no, demand-he stepped up to her and brought his hand to her cheek. Against her better judgement, she flinched, her back brushing up against her clothing rack. His hand slipped down just enough to linger on her throat, thumb tracing the line of her jaw.

His brows furrowed. Why was she retreating from him? Did she just flinch away?

“Just give me time to sort this out-”

“Just go.” she whispered, but her voice was curt and dismissive. She didn’t want his pathetic attempt to placate her into thinking that whatever he was going to say or do was for her best interest. No, that fiddle had already been played, one too many times. The strings on that neck had broken, the bow frayed beyond use.

When he opened his mouth to protest she cut him off, informing him that he wasn’t the only one who needed to think things through either. Having gotten the hint, he shifted his bag and pulled back, stepping up to her door and waiting for her to unward it with a silent arc of his brows. She pulled up her wand and aimed it at the door and in the split-second of time that lasted like eternity, had a most dreadful temptation.

If he didn’t choose to side with her and Harry now that it had finally dawned on him just how doing so could bring his family to ruin, that would mean the end of their alliance, their truce, to them. They’d be enemies once again, and she’d be in even more danger than before, because of what she knew-what they had planned together. And she couldn’t let that happen.

She could Obliviate that information from him, make him forget he’d ever come into her confidence, along with Theodore. Clean the slate of their friendship and all knowledge of what he had already agreed to. She would lose him, but Harry would be safe then, and she’d still have the upper hand. 

Her blood ran cold. Her wand hand quivered. Draco’s face went from a bored-like impatience into concern before she snapped back to clarity and unlocked her door, and he stepped out. She shut the door without further a word and dropped her wand, momentarily horrified at what she just contemplated doing. She wrapped her arms around herself and sank to the floor, almost ready to upheave her dinner in the cold reality that this was doomed from the start and she should’ve never been tempted by the charming snake.  
……………………….

Draco could see fear in her eyes, fear that he felt under his crumbling mask of indifference. He felt slammed in the chest with the heavy burden of choice, and neither option brought him any comfort.

This wasn’t just about unmasking Crouch and getting him tossed back into Azkaban and therefore getting the most direct threat against Potter out of the way. Now, now his father had compromised his ignorant bubble with admittance of being a co-conspirator alongside Crouch and other said “Black Knights” with “pawns in place” and “keeping up the charade”. If he brought this letter to Dumbledore then he’d be implicating his father beyond a shadow of a doubt, evidence that would get him a hefty sentence for crimes against The-Boy-Who-Lived and the blood magic ritual listing him as a component needed to bring back He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. 

A Malfoy being sent to prison for such crimes would be the social scandal of the century. The name tarnished beyond saving. Ostracized by the topmost influencers and political members of society. Property and assets seized in raids for dark artifacts and proof of further wrongdoings. He and his mother would be left with the brunt of shame and pity, perhaps needing to flee the country to escape the scrutiny.

And if he did nothing? What of it? His father and the other Death Eaters would more than likely kill Potter, try to bring back the Dark Lord, he in return would call upon his service and he’d have no choice but to obey, for his father would’ve promised him up as a loyal subject.

As a pureblood, as a member of the Sacred 28, he’d be safe from prosecution. The cleansing of the Wizarding World-as his father put it-would mean genocide of muggleborns. Could he live with that? Could he accept that kind of vision, granted even if he’d be allowed to keep Granger as the pet they already believed she was? At least she’d be alive…But happy? Even under Imperio she wouldn’t be and he’d know it too. 

What kind of life would that be?

He tossed his bag aside the moment he entered the bedroom, shucking off his loafers and practically ripping off his school uniform, ignoring the inquiries from his roommates as he slipped into sleepwear and flopped onto his bed, pulling tight the canopy drapes and burying his head into his pillow. What the hell could he even say to the guys right now? Not when Zabini wasn’t even part of the little quartet he’d become with Nott, Potter, and Granger. And what to say to Theo when he didn’t even know what he was supposed to do now? And that moment when she looked at him…the uncertainty of their future now…that prickling feeling she was about to hex him before she opened her door…

What was he going to do? What would become of them…if he couldn’t turn in his own father-whom yes, he was quite disillusioned with right now but that didn’t mean he still didn’t love him-and want him in prison? How could he do something that would hurt his mother in such a way? He just couldn’t…but…Hermione…

She told him he to make a decision. It was as simple and difficult as it could be.

Your family or me.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair of her to ask that. It wasn’t fair of his father to get them all tangled up in this damn Death Eater business. It wasn’t fair that she was friends with Harry bloody Potter-the boy with the biggest target on his back in all of Wizarding Britain! It wasn’t fair that he’d never been able to be true to her, and that he’d hidden his affection behind a mask of hatred. It wasn’t fair that Aunt Andromeda fell in love with a Muggleborn and was disowned by the family. It wasn’t fair that all he had ever wanted was the freedom of choice and now that he had it, it was the most painful decision he’d ever have to make.  
…………………….

Saturday morning was hollow and quiet since both Draco and Hermione refused to leave the sanctuary of his bed/her room, and join Theo for breakfast. All he could do was shrug and offer up the notion that they’d had words last night. For a moment, he and Harry considered the option of charging right down into the snake pit and talking sense into their idiots-in-love friends but then found themselves in the rare instance of actually being away from the two-with the unexpected free day to kill on their own!

So let Hermione and Draco stew, they’d put up with the overzealous wizard and apprehensive witch all bloody week and deserved some time off for not going mental. Blaise and the girls were told to leave them alone, if they wanted to pout in their rooms let them. While not entirely on board with that, Pansy still agreed for everyone’s sake. Still, one of the girls ought to be nearby for when Granger finally did leave her room…

Tracey and Millicent traded a look and agreed to alternate between them on the hour. While yes, it was bloody inconvenient as all get out, neither one of them was willing to endure the wrath that would ensue should anything happen to the trouble magnet. Pansy already had agreed to girl talk and time with Daphne-there was no way in Hell she was cancelling on her for Granger when she was trying to smooth things over with the embittered blonde.

Whatever Draco had done this time he was gonna have to fix it on his own, he’d had enough advice and guidance from their little group to last a lifetime-and that was for the week alone. If he couldn’t flipping figure out how to woo his witch and find some middle ground with her then he was a lost cause.

Hermione opened her door to let out Crookshanks but not to admit anyone entry. To do something with her hands she pulled out her shoe box of craft supplies and started braiding some colored cording to make a bracelet. It was something her mother had taught her-macramé-and it calmed her nerves when she had worked herself into a tizzy over the advanced mathematics class she was taking in her final year of Muggle schooling. 

She knew that she had friends, both in Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, acquaintances in Hufflepuff, and complicated arrangements with Slytherins. She’d only begun scratching the surface with them, and now she wasn’t sure how much further she should invest herself if Draco didn’t come to a conclusion quite soon. Everything hinged on information like what he had in his possession, he’d come of his own accord to Harry to try to prevent another disaster, and he’d made his obsessive admiration of her known. But now when faced between what was right, and what was easy, he hesitated.

Hesitation meant doubt. And where there was doubt, there was always the chance for rejection. She’d brazenly made the snap decision to be resorted, to become Slytherin-had it merely been a means to escape Ron’s proximity or was it a way to get closer to Draco?-and now here she was, on the edge of something far bigger than herself and depending on one boy’s choice, it could lead to the end of everything she knew.

She scolded herself for setting herself up for such a possible downfall. That darn impulsiveness of Harry’s had rubbed off on her in the worst way. It was reckless to rely on good luck, despite the track record of panning out so far. 

-Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!-

She threaded selected charms to adorn the bracelet, not for her, but a friend. She needed her friends to know they were appreciated regardless of little time she’d been spending with them as of late. Without realizing she’d selected red and gold to begin with, she decided to continue on with it for Ginny-her one Gryffindor girlfriend that she trusted and adored like a younger sister. Yes, she definitely deserved something in kind for that marvelous display of lion courage on her first day of being a Slytherin.  
Before she knew it, she had a handful of bracelets laid out on her bed in select colors with a coordinating charm dangling from the assorted mix of them she’d bought in the jewelry section of the craft store. It had been marked down which had made it all the more appealing. She’d whittled away a handful of hours before her stomach loudly protested, and she’d come to realize she hadn’t partaken with breakfast-too late for that now-and there was a knock at her door.

Right on cue, every hour on the hour, Tracey and Millicent had come to check on her, and it was Tracey this time. Hermione swung the door open this time, startling the blonde with blinking sapphire eyes and a question lodged in her throat before she started in on her.

“Tracey! I just realized I don’t know the first thing about you and here you’ve been alternating between Millie to check on me and I am so sorry and thankful for you doing that. Tell me, what’s your favorite color? Hobby? Animal? Flower?”

Tracey took a moment to recover before responding. “Uh…Gold. Singing. Butterfly. Poppy.”

“And what does Millicent like? Besides cats.”

The Slytherin half-blood tilted her head. “She plays the harpsichord. Loves lemonade with strawberries. Likes royal blue and thistles. Absolutely adores cats. Wants one in every color. I’m sure you realize she gets teased a bit because of her size, so she doesn’t eat as many sweets as she’d like.”

Hermione took dictation, scribbling away the tidbits to use for later.

“Would you like the same for Pansy? I’m sure you can already figure out the flower one, but she does actually like unicorns, the color pink-and I mean that awful pastel pale one,” she said with a disgusted shiver, “And she obviously has an eye for fashion, she always knows what is trending. Course for her, she needs to know that kind of thing because you have to stay on top of that when it comes to socializing.”

“Thank you Tracey, that has been helpful.” She replied, tucking away the remaining crafts along with the note. She’d come back to it later and get those three made once she finished the one for Padma. After closing up her room, she allowed the blonde to lead the way to the Great Hall for lunch. Though instead of sitting at Slytherin, she sat with her Ravenclaws.

Harry and Theo had come in, their smiles switching to frowns at the immediate sight. This surely wasn’t a good sign. Draco had yet to make an appearance and Hermione with the ravens? 

“Had enough of the snake pit already?” Ron jeered from across the massive room, at his table with the other Gryffindors. Immediately the closer of the twins cuffed him upside the head and told him to shut it.

Hermione rolled her eyes and went back to conversing with Ginny, Luna, Padma, and Cho. It certainly wasn’t her fault that she had friends beyond her own house and was welcome at their table. No other table would be near as half as willing to let that git approach theirs-especially with Crabbe and Goyle as his new bosom buddies. She waved as Harry and Theo drew near, sitting on the inner side so they were closer to her and required less strain to lean over and talk. Luckily, though their eyes conveyed it, they kept their mouths shut on the absence of a certain blond. Blaise’s question was quickly shut down and shushed before he could even voice half of it, and he just shrugged. He did his part on Thursday and considered the matter handled. If something else was amiss, he wasn’t going to waste his weekend on it.

Not when there were birds to chase. He tossed a wink at Padma who wrinkled her nose in a sneer and turned her head to purposefully avoid seeing him. It just made him laugh as he tore into his roast beef. 

Hermione invited Tracey to the lab, shooing away both Harry and Theo who were now fully aware beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was something wrong. Her declaration of needing “girl time” was utter shite to them and they all knew it but they weren’t going to make a scene. When the girls left Harry spun on Theo and said this would be a prime occasion for him to grab his invisi-cloak and investigate. His partner in crime agreed but convinced him it would be more prudent to see to Draco on this.

Unfortunately, the common room had far too many occupants for his liking, so Theo had Harry wait outside the main entrance while he dashed off to the dorm he shared with the pouty problematic prince and found his bed empty. He cast a reveal spell and nothing happened. He sifted through what items were about that remained unwarded, finding his discarded schoolbag and books plopped unceremoniously by his nightstand, and inside located two envelopes-one from each of his parents-and snatched them up.  
He recalled the brief grimace on his face that Friday when the owls swooped in dropping their packages and letters and the unmistakable Malfoy seal in silver wax that fell face up before he snatched it and stuffed it inside his bag, right before Hermione’s dramatic entrance that banished the inconsequential moment aside for the rest of the day.  
Darting out of the room as fast as possible, he all but burst through the tapestry opening and into Harry-practically into his arms-and then grabbed his arm and pulled him into the corridors of the dungeons on fast feet.

Having one too many nights playing detective and looking over his shoulder for possible murderers, Harry asked no questions and made no protests to literally being dragged into the unknown by his newest Slytherin friend, who clutched what looked like mail to his chest and huffed steady breaths as he searched for a secluded spot in an old storage room by the Potions classroom.  
………………………………..

Draco was enjoying the rare solitude while hiding out in the lab, snacking away on a pilfered apple, sandwich, and glass of water, still ruminating his problematic decision when he’d barely heard the sound of the door opening, Hermione’s voice, along with Tracey Davis before flinging his Invisibility cloak over and casting a silenco upon himself to remain hidden as the door quickly shut and Hermione headed straight to the work table.  
……………………………

“One question, why do you actually support them? Him and her? Is it just because he’s your best mate and all?”

“Ooh a question like that has its own little story you know.” 

“I’ll wait.” Harry said, crossing his arms and leaning against a dusty old shelf.

“Alright. First Year, first day of first year you rebuffed his offer for friendship-in front of everyone-you embarrassed him. That reputation preceded you and gave everyone an impression of what to expect, and you were the furthest thing from that, picking Weasley over him. So that was his first great frustration and that was before we were ever even sorted.”

“Then, during the sorting as the hat mulled over her he leaned over to me, asked if I had any idea who she was, who she was related to. I didn’t have a clue. He told me how she’d come in looking for Longbottom’s toad and he could just see it in the way she carried herself and spoke that she came from good breeding. He was even taken in by the vigor in which she was avidly searching for the damn amphibian, like it was the most important task at hand. And she’d darted off leaving him bewildered. After that good long hat-stall she gets sorted into the lion’s pride and he just sank. That was the second great frustration, because chances were slim to none that he’d ever get a decent moment to talk to her now.”

“She dazzled him, but he found it amusing, her thirst for knowledge and excellent grades. Soon as we learned the Notice-Me-Not he started charming his journal so no one could see what he was drawing, and he only did that when she was in proximity. Took every ounce of my sneaking skills but I finally caught him drawing her one day. But all that changed when we returned for Second Year. He was angry. He hated you. He hated her. He hated every Gryffindor. You literally stole a legitimate Slytherin house cup win, got on the Quidditch team, got a damn Nimbus sent to you, and he found out her true heritage. But it was all because of Lucius. He found the journal and made him burn it-page by page-he beat him senseless with his cane and confiscated his invisi-cloak.”

Harry felt his throat constrict upon the mention of the cane.

“After he said that he hoped Granger was next…and what happened to her…I think something inside him broke.” Theo expelled a breath. “I never saw him so shaken until then, like he’d caused it just by speaking it out loud. You could’ve dumped ice water upon his head without him flinching, and he muttered something along the lines of that not being the last words he ever wanted said about her and it took him some time but he was finally able to sneak in one visit at her bedside. When he came back from that it was like he’d seen a ghost and someone roasted his favorite peacock for dinner. After everyone was cured and she came running back into the Great Hall his face lit up-everyone was looking at her, so no one saw it, but I did-and I knew it then that he had it for her.”

“But when she all but threw herself into your arms, I swear I could hear his teeth grinding. Didn’t learn til recently what part he played in all that business…so now I see why, I just didn’t then. And that’s when I noticed the new journal, and how he’d conceal it when sketching, how often he’d look her way…Honestly, how you guys never noticed is beyond me but I digress. He was caught up between following in the footsteps of his father and following his heart. He’s been in that place ever since, until I learned about what happened last summer and what we’ve all been working towards. He changes when he’s around her, he smiles more and he’s less guarded. He’s kinder and happier and it’s almost like he’s the person he would’ve been had Narcissa had the lead on his upbringing.”

Theo tapped the envelopes against his leg. “Anyone who has the ability to do that to someone while completely unawares has got to be something special. Muggleborn or not, she is exceptional. And now that she’s been made aware of how special she is and how she affects him, she can see that there is hardly a more suited wizard in this school for her. I’ve seen her blossom as well, since this whole thing started. I’m sure you’ve caught onto as well. They complement each other when not on opposite sides of an obstacle.

"So now, I want to know what happened in literally the span of a day to change all that. Something tells me these,” he waved the two parcels, “might just have the answer.” 

……………….


	50. Invisible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While hiding under his Invisibility Cloak, Draco becomes privy to conversations and opinions he’d otherwise been unaware of.

Plagued by nightmares the evening through to the wee morning hours, Draco absolutely refused to leave his bed come daylight, despite all of Theo’s poking, prodding, and protesting. It wasn’t until he returned for a final time saying that she felt the same way and all plans had been cancelled that he felt the punch in his gut and knew that even with getting the dorm to himself, he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep.

He had half a mind to march over to her room and try to talk things out, but he had no idea what he’d even say, especially if she abruptly asked if he’d made his choice. Betray his family or lose her? Preventing the resurrection of the Dark Lord seemed trivial by comparison. Which pain was he willing to live with for the rest of his life?

For the nth time he cursed himself for bringing that letter to her room and opening it, for his father writing it, for now he knew no peace. But it would just be delaying the inevitable if he was being completely honest, and now more than ever he wished he could convince himself of the sweet lie and just have a bit more time before coming to this bridge. It was too soon, much too soon…

Kicking his blanket off in frustration, irritation, nervous energy-whatever-he didn’t even bother with brushing his hair, he just grabbed the nearest bits of clothing he owned and donned the invisibility cloak he missed so much. He didn’t want to be badgered with inquiries from anyone about anything today, but he couldn’t deny himself the temptation of a meal. At least a bloody cup of coffee. For that, he headed towards the kitchen, startling a handful of poor house elves that were busying themselves with actual cooking and prepping food that would be served for lunch.

Mug in hand, piping hot with the right amount of sugar and cream, he watched in slight fascination as they moved around him and worked. While dedicated to their job that didn’t stop them from having their own conversations, banter and jokes, even two getting into a fairly loud row before a supervisor stepped in between. There were even three young ones acting a fool with juggling apples and flicking dollops of cream at each other. An obvious female one sitting in a soiled pink dress was tipping back a bottle of Butterbeer and Draco felt himself compelled before rationally thinking, grabbing the glass bottle and fuming at her.

“Winky!” he shouted, just to be sure.

The little thing quaked in the face of his rage, other elves stopped to take stock of the situation but as she was a free elf she was responsible for herself now with no one to back her up.

“Have you or have you not been drinking the Pepper-up potions that Hermione and I have brewed for you?” he demanded.

She fell to her knees. “Oh Winky is so shamed! I has drinked the potions, I have! But the butterbeers are so good, I cannot stops.”

“Well you must. If you’re going to help Hermione. Hasn’t Dobby told you we need you sober?” he looked around; he didn’t see the familiar elf anywhere. “Where is Dobby? Dobby!” he called.

A few seconds later, the bright eyed elf appeared. “Master Draco!” he squeaked in surprise.

“You’re supposed to be getting her to stop.” He said sternly, not wanting to make more of a scene than they already had. The onlooking elves had returned to their jobs but kept their big ears and eyes turning back every few seconds.

Dobby turned to Winky and slapped her hand in a firm reprimand. Having been freed two years prior, Dobby had seniority over the recently freed elf in a way, and any newer elves recently freed would refer to him for guidance. The elves were highly social and flowed better together in a cohesive unit where they knew their rank and place and did their share. He’d been tasked with her well-being and took great pride in his responsibility to see her completely sober and functional.

After breaking down into blubbering tears of apology, Winky promised to stop the alcohol altogether. Draco watched Dobby handle her like an upset parent as he finished his coffee, getting a new idea. Asking for another refill but with less sugar, he then handed the mug to the little elf and ordered her to drink it. At first she found it bitter and squinted, but long ingrained habits rarely die, and she dutifully drank the hot beverage.

“Dobby, see that she has a cup of coffee every morning, tea at lunch and dinner, and water in between. Nothing else unless instructed by us.” He turned to the quivering elfette and watched as her demeanor started to sooth now that the liquid’s warmth has flushed through her. “Better?”

She nodded.

“Good. Stay sober Winky. We need you.” He reminded them before snatching an apple and flipping his hood back over his face. He slunk into the Great Hall and hugged the wall as he trailed the length of the Slytherin table, lingering on the centralized circle of his friends.

“What? Neither of them are coming out?” Pansy cried out in exasperation. “What the hell happened now?”

Theo helplessly shrugged. “You know how tight-lipped he can be. He tossed and turned all night, probably hasn’t had more than two solid hours of sleep.”

Pansy shook her head. “Look, I promised Daphne a day with her and there’s no way in Hell I can back out of that-especially for Granger.” She turned to Millicent and Tracey. “Can you two take point on this? I know you all haven’t had much interaction, but honestly she’d not that bad. Just get her talking about something and she’ll keep herself occupied as long as you interact accordingly.”

“Hey,” Harry piped up, feathers ruffled. “She’s not a toddler that needs babysitting. And she can tell the difference when you’re not paying attention-trust me, I did it often enough and she called me out every time.”

Pansy spun back at him. “Of course she’d not a child, but she is our responsibility. Snape asked us to keep her safe from harm-and trust me, there’s plenty of it-so there always has to be one of us with her. You think she just strolled up into Slytherin and demanded an entourage?” she barks a bitter laugh. “Hell no, at least not directly. No, her way is far more effective, capturing the heart of said absent pureblood prince and thus extending that attention from his closest friends. A surprisingly pure Slytherin tactic if you ask me.” she teased with a wiggle of her brows and flick of her tongue.

“As his friends, of course we extended our hospitality, but after having been exposed to her personality myself, I consider her as much as my friend as you do.” Theo placated the hero-complexed Gryffindor among them. “Seeing as we’re both free of our best mates today I say we’ve earned ourselves a little reprieve. Let those two stew over whatever happened and we’ll deal with it later.” And with that, Theo pulled Harry away from the Slytherin girls and out of the dining hall.

Pansy dragged a hand over her face. “Bloody Gryffindors, at least Neville doesn’t his knickers in a twist at the drop of a hat. Potter ought to realize he’s not a knight and more like a paladin.” 

Tracey and Millicent giggled. “Don’t worry, we’ll trade off and check on her until she decides to be social. She might just want a day to herself, I mean, when was the last time she’s had that?”

Pansy waggled her finger between the two of them. “I don’t care what you do, just one of yous. Now, I’m off before Daph starts hexing anyone unfortunate to walk by. Be nice.”  
She stormed off, muttering about having the unfortunate job being everybody’s mother all of a sudden and that she should at least be getting paid for her services.

Tracey turned to Millicent. “You talked to her the other night, what’s she like?”

They turned into the opposite direction, and for a moment Draco was torn between who to follow. What would Theo and Harry be up to without him around? What was Pansy going to be doing with Daphne? What would Tracey and Millie do with Hermione?

Millicent shrugged. “She’s actually pretty nice, not nearly as judgmental as I thought she’d be. But oh my stars Trace, have you seen the way Theo’s been hanging onto Potter lately?” she giggled. 

Draco’s ear perked. This might be something he needed to hear.

The duo of girls shared some knowing sounds as they meandered out of the dining hall and back down to their common room. They at least had the presence of mind to not gab of any possible juicy gossip while there were still ears about, and after a search of the common room and Tracey making the first round at Hermione’s door, coming back empty-handed, the two sat at a selected table and pulled out a deck of cards.

“So she’s sulking too? You think they broke up?” Millie asked.

“I don’t hear any crying. She sounded a little absentminded, and I heard a page flip so she’s got her nose in a book again. You wonder if she reads those smut-filled romance novels from the muggle authors?”

Millie shrugged. “She seems a little prim and proper for that, given that she likes Hogwarts: A History for fun. But frankly, she’s not exactly what we expected so it’s entirely possible.”

Tracey nodded along. “Ok, so tell me what you think it going on between those two.”

“Which two?”

“Potter and Nott!” the sandy blonde replied with a devilish grin. “You’re the one who brought it up! Has he actually come out of the closet yet?”

Millicent snorted. “Like I’d be the first girl he’d go run and tell.” she drolled. One too many jokes about her weight had put her off male attention-not like there was any to begin with-and instead she spent time observing people rather than trying to interact. So it was becoming clear to her that Theodore harbored favorable attention towards the Boy-Who-Lived when they were gathered around for that lovely sonnet reading.

“I don’t think Potter has a single clue either, which makes it all the more fascinating.” she added, laying a card down.

“Fascinating? It’s kinda sad, you would take pleasure knowing poor Theo is probably pining after someone who has no earthly idea they think of them like that?” Tracey replied in mock disgust.

“Oh like Draco had been for the past year at least?” Millie joked.

He stiffened at hearing his own name brought up, and how his hidden attention towards Hermione might not have been so hidden after all.

“He certainly didn’t make it easy on himself, treating her like he had been.” Tracey commented, laying a card down and selecting another. “I wonder what on earth he did in the first place to even get her to look at him without her wand pointed in defense, let alone allow him to actually woo her.”

Millicent flipped some of her dark mahogany hair and smacked her lips into exaggerated kissing puckers, giving Tracey a reason to laugh and slap at her arm.

“Right. A good proper snog will do wonders for making you forget your troubles.” The blonde added a moment later. “Especially with someone with a sexy pair of eyes.”

Millicent laughed. “Oh, like a certain Ravenclaw with blond hair that matches his last name?” 

Tracey flushed and folded her cards, then picked up the deck and dealed out a new hand. “Hey, he and I would make adorable blue-eyed, blonde-haired half-bloods and you know it.”

“Yeah, but he’s a Ravenclaw, how’s Harry’s input gonna help you?”

“Pshaw! Because it’s Harry flippin’ Pottah!” the blonde quipped. “Don’t tell me that even if it’s about the weather that people wouldn’t take Harry’s word for it. Goldstein was far too focused on the potion project to talk of anything else; I couldn’t make the leeway into asking him to Hogsmeade. I’m hoping if Potter says something that might turn him around.”

Draco had to give the girl credit for thinking along those lines. Harry Potter was far too influential for his own good whether he realized it or not. If he came up to any given bloke in the school and said “I know a witch with eyes for you.” who would be hard-pressed to not believe him? Tracey had eyes for Goldstein and she’d found a way to get to him now that Hermione was Slytherin, friend to Potter, and his word would be taken at face value.

It became apparent that the conversation wasn’t going to rail back to either himself and Hermione or towards Theo and Harry, so he silently took his leave when another pair of students opened the common room entrance and had an appalling lax in manners as they stood in the doorway chatting as if they had all the free time in world. Oh well, it was just the opening he needed to remain unseen in his sleuthing.

He had no idea who was where-Hermione had the blasted map-so he figured he’d spin the proverbial wheel of fortune and guess someone he knew was in the courtyard. Couldn’t go wrong on a nice day like this after that small dose of rain from earlier in the week. Luckily there was little breeze or else his disguise would be blown but that didn’t stop him from gripping it even closer to his body and avoiding any area that looked soggy from pooling rainwater. Keeping close to the castle walls was best so he didn’t stand in the way of a flying disc being tossed between some muggleborns, or a few that had gathered to practice some wand techniques.

In all his focus being spent on the lookout for familiar faces, he’d failed to watch his own back-an occupational hazard when disillusioned-and nearly had a heart attack when Luna’s soft voice said “Ello Malfoy.” as she squatted to collect more ferns and mosses and inspect them for whatever-the-fuck she called those things she claimed she saw.  
At first, he thought he’d just ignore her and she’d mosey along, but she’d somehow figured it was him under a freaking Invisible Cloak without so much as a peep, so he reconsidered.

“You don’t have to say anything. Obviously, you don’t want others knowing you’re out here. That’s fine. It must be liberating to be unseen. You could be naked under that and no one would know.”

“Luna!” he chastised against his instincts, aghast at the brazen thought from the queer girl.

She hadn’t even turned her head towards the sound of his voice, focused on her task. Hair in pigtails, turnip earrings hanging from each ear, hands covered in dirt as she fingered through tuffs of grass and plucking mushrooms and earthworms out of the soft soil.

“What are you doing?” he whispered with disgust.

“Nothing you really care to know about.” she answered with a little hum in her voice. Damned if she wasn’t right though, he really didn’t want to know. “But you need to be here.”

“Alright, you got me.” he conceded. 

“She’s upset with you.” Again, another out-of-the blue statement.

He couldn’t argue that one. Hermione was upset. And he did have something to do with it. But he could rectify that….

“You’re lost.”

God what is it with this girl?

“And danger lurks near.”

Draco pulled his lips inward, gently teething on them as the third year Ravenclaw shot darts of truth and hit her mark every time. She sure as hell didn’t sugarcoat things.  
“I can’t say how. But she should avoid silver and blue. Blue eyes.”

“That’s not entirely helpful Lovegood.” He stated blandly. “As about half the student body has blue eyes of some sort, and silver is a common enough color or element here.”

She nodded. “I know. Which is why I said I can’t say how. It hasn’t made itself clear to me yet. These things have a funny way of manifesting.”

“I fail to see the humor in vague statements pertaining to danger with nothing concrete to base it upon or to avoid properly.”

“She doesn’t believe in Divination so she wouldn’t take my words with weight.” She shifted her knees-know completely soaked through in the damp soil-and plopped her gatherings into a jar. “You like to speculate, you’re an observer. A challenge presents itself and you are drawn to it. I know you’ll consider the variables.”

He felt winded. This child was giving him a half-arsed vision of danger pertaining to Hermione-as if that wasn’t a current state of awareness-and leaving him to decipher what the fuck it all meant. Yes, totally helpful. Brilliant. He let out a little scoff but said nothing else in response as she stood up, brushed off her skirt and flitted off without so much as a head turn in his direction, nor had she in the entire strange encounter. So taken aback by it all he almost missed the unfavorable trio that slunk by with suspicious intent, but you couldn’t mistake that shock of red hair or the size of the lackeys that followed. 

They stood in the shadow of the narrow wall, obscured by the extended corridor, a blind spot that was quite often overlooked but for those who know of it, given the vines and growth allowed to be left to its own device. He was surprised Vincent could actually squeeze his thick build through the narrow passageway. The three boys lined up; Ronald, Vincent, and Greg as he produced a rolled up fag and the ginger git produced a tiny flame at the end of his wand as Greg puffed to ignite the rollie.

After his first hit, he passed over Vincent to Ron. Draco recognized the gesture; it was obvious that his old cronies had taken to Weasley as their new pack leader. He also recognized the rolled bundle, inside was an herb known to produce calming hallucinations after inhaling its smoke. Crabbe and Goyle always had a stash of them. Great for after a nightmare-which he certainly could’ve used last night-or just to get a buzz for fun. And they were sharing that shit with him.

“Oi, I tell ya, you just play nice and the others will be totally willing to accept ya. Given how Potter’s all chummy with Malfoy and Nott, and those slags literally pulled Longbottom over to join them, you can see where the lines are being drawn.” He said in a nauseatingly familiar way in which he used to address them when he was feeling mighty proud of himself.

“Your bird won’t stop staring at meh, it’s bothersome.” Crabbe pouted, taking his hit.

“Yeah well least it keeps her hands of me long enough so I can eat.” He snorted. “Can’t tell ya how many flippin’ meals went cold because she couldn’t let go. Clingy tramp.”

Even that rankled Draco’s fur. Not that he cared enough for Miss Brown to defend her honor, but for her own boyfriend to speak so lowly of her was disconcerting. Sure, he knew that Weasley and her were just making a show to get under Hermione’s skin, but that ship long sailed. Even when he and Pansy were dating and he’d quickly discovered he couldn’t go through with anything more than a cheek peck, he still never spoke ill of her. Uncouth lout. Surely his parents-while poor-still raised their sons with a modicum of decency. 

“The twins don’t like us.” Goyle stated.

“So what? They’re a year ahead, they got their own things to worry bout. If Geroge’d get a girl then both of them be’d out of our hair. I’m sure it’ll happen. Just you two continue being lovely gents and everyone will soon forget what colors you wear.”

“Have you figured out what you’re gonna do?” Crabbe asked now that it was his turn with the joint.

“Shh!” Ron hissed, “Nothing out loud mates. And no, it can’t be rushed. The best way to defeat the king is to remove the queen. Just gotta get past the knights, so you two better sharpen up your dueling skills.”

Draco’s eyes widened and he inhaled sharply. It took everything he had to not whip out his wand and stupefy all three of them and then…then what? Get a professor? Just because he was speaking in chess analogies? Weasley was craftier than he gave him credit for, but he had nothing to prove. It was bone-chilling how eerily it resembled his father’s letter.

Which sent his mind back into that rabbit hole he’d managed to distract himself from with this little spying game. His chest began to tighten, he felt hot under the hood that he’d been wearing for a couple hours now and he needed relief. Silently spinning on his heel he left the three to smoke away more brain cells while they hid from Professor Snape, and he headed back to the castle. He needed a place to think, compartmentalize the jumble of thoughts that jockeyed for frontal lobe position.

His breakfast’s energy fled with every step as he slipped by unseen and unheard and unknown to all those around him, finding himself at the lab’s door before he’d even registered it. No matter, he was here now. He quickly unwarded and opened the door, having been granted access with a simple alteration of the spell now that Theo couldn’t risk his Patronus being seen by too many, Hermione had changed the wards to allow the three boys their own entry.

Once inside and finding the room unused he breathed a sigh of relief and flung the cloak back. He locked and rewarded the door and dragged himself over to the carpeted section of the room now used for training. He slunk against the wall and landed on his bum, trying to grasp at the fragile reality he’d been faced with so far.

• Tracey & Millicent were both aware of Theo’s…affection for Potter and had no qualms about it,   
and also knew of his own secret admiration of Hermione for at least the last year.   
• Millicent and Hermione had come together of their own accord which was good.  
• Pansy was still on pointe when it came to bodyguarding Hermione but was trying to appease Greengrass in her own fashion  
• Luna apparently was a Seer and had cryptic but insightful advice that proved almost immediately true, Ron was plotting something.   
• Silver and blue. Blue eyes. Be aware of those two very common elements.  
• Hermione was going to need him, and she needed to trust him. And to gain her trust she needed a show of faith.   
And that faith would come from a difficult decision she expected him to make.

His head spun with the myriad of thoughts and his stomach churned. Groaning to himself about not having the foresight to pack a lunch or the energy to deal with the jovial atmosphere of the dining hall, he summoned Dobby. When the chipper little elf arrived he asked for a plate of food and a glass of water. While nice chilled pumpkin juice usually was a favorite to have, he felt parched in a way that only water to quench, as if his mind needed clarity.

Dobby brought him a plate with a ham and cheese sandwich, a tart green apple and the water. Draco took the sandwich and handed the plate back, he didn’t want to leave any evidence behind of him being here if he could help it and he’d be just absentminded enough to leave behind a plate. He reminded Dobby to check Winky’s cup of tea before letting her have it, and sent him on his way.

So there he was, enjoying the rare solitude while hiding out in the lab, snacking away on a pilfered apple, sandwich, and the glass of water, still ruminating his problematic decision when he’d barely heard the sound of the door opening, Hermione’s voice, along with Tracey Davis before flinging his Invisibility cloak over and casting a silenco upon himself to remain hidden as the door quickly shut and Hermione headed straight to the work table.

-Shit! Now I’m really stuck in here!-

“Oh, what an interesting little setup you have.” Tracey said, looking around. She had expected more until she saw the other half of the room which Hermione explained was now her training dojo and anything that wasn’t integral to either project was shrunk and stored away. She went into a little textbook condensed version of what karate was and her rank within it and some of the health benefits as well as the self-defense aspect.

“Ah, that explains that little flip thing you did after Daphne attacked you.”

Hermione teetered with a so-so kind of shrug as she settled onto the stool and checked all the plants still cultivating for their project. Their original pair was still untouched, left in its dome to still collect the vapor samples they emitted. Currently they were stoic, not touching, with the Dragon’s Breath hunched low. She peered at the daffodil and pondered what it meant, knowing the flower was now attached to Draco and his emotions just as the Fairy Snowdrop was to her. Professor Sprout explained that magical plants often emulated their caretaker if they were treated well and the magical bond was strong enough.

-Well, that explains Neville’s top marks then! - She mused.

“I have been wondering why Snape singled you out for that little story he lectured us on.” The sandy blonde stated, peering over at the aligned plants and bottles and labeled samples and notes stacked on her table. “He practically told you to work with Draco even though we all knew by then things with you and Weasley had soured.”

“Yes, I’ve pondered that myself because it’s so unlike him to give any Gryffindor a chance to redeem points.” She used and eye dropper to apply a few steady beads to a dish before leaning down to her bag and pulling out a small and strange black device and charming it back to its regular size.

“You brought a microscope? To a magical school?” Tracey asked, eyebrow raised and hip cocked to the side. “Why am I not surprised?”

Hermione slid the tiny dish on the platform and pressed her face into the viewing lenses. “How do you know what this is? I thought magical households shunned Muggle tech.”

Tracey tsked. “Darling, there’s plenty of things that both wizards and muggles alike use. But you’re thinking in only blacks and whites. While magic is convenient and time saving, there are plenty of things muggles have created that are just too extraordinary to live without. I mean, the refrigerator is one! Cars and tellys! It’s just that in places of high concentration of magic is where you run into the incompatibility of electronics. My guess is that magic and electrical currents are similar but opposing, so they tend to cancel each other out.”

Hermione scribbled more notes. Merlin, did the girl ever stop writing?

“Places like Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, Wizarding London and other stretches of land that have never fallen out of wizarding hands still hold onto their magical roots. Once a land passes from wizard to muggle ownership and they implant their wires and cables it starts to suck the magic out of the land and eventually dries it up. I suspect that’s one of the contributing factors of land disputes going on within the Ministry. It’s more important than ever to keep our ancestral land out of Muggle ownership and unblemished by their technology.”

The brunette turned to her. “If we did that there will always be a divide between the magical and muggle worlds, which will only further feed into the racial and bigoted beliefs that somehow one is better than the other when people like you and me can clearly co-exist within both worlds and cope with technology and magic. Surely the Ministry of Magic can see that the solution to this age old problem is not more division but unity?”

Tracey shook her head. “You don’t know how the Ministry works. And how fixated and stubborn those old bats are to hold onto tradition above their own common sense. You’re talking about people who can trace their bloodline back to William the Conqueror and Charlemagne and even the Hogwarts Founders. There’s so much pride and prestige that goes with a bloodline like that, I’m sure you’re well aware. I mean, you’ve heard of Malfoy’s claim to infamy, right?”

Draco hung his head. More gossip about him? He secured his water glass in the crook of his lap as he continued to eat. He wasn’t going to let this intrusion interrupt his lunch. Although one might argue that he was the one intruding.

Hermione nodded. “I have. I did read up on that in History. It certainly does explain how he does carry himself.”

“Oh? Elaborate.” Her companion egged on.

“It just means that he knows the importance of his place in the world and the sense of duty attached to it. And I can begin to see why he has behaved like a hooligan at times, because here he has more leeway to be himself. At home it’s back to falling into the role he’s been molded into, meeting the expectations the wizarding world has placed before him.”

He stopped chewing despite knowing he was encased in silence. His heart was pounding in his ears.

“He’s up there like Prince William and Harry. And here I am, just a regular everyday witch.” The sigh that passed felt like it was sucking his soul out from across the room.   
“There’s a novelty about being with someone like that, but in reality…it just doesn’t work out.”

“This coming from the girl who just a minute ago was saying how unity would fix the problem keeping the wizarding and muggle worlds? Did you two fight?”

“No?”

Tracey cocked her head to the side. “No? You don’t know? You two can fight like for days-hell, you’ve been doing it for years!-and now you don’t know? What happened?”

Hermione shook her head. “It’s not so much of a fight but just the realization that we’re too different. It’s not going to last.” She had stopped writing, stopped looking into the miceroscobe thing and was fidgeting with her hands. “He’s going to have to make a decision and I know I don’t compare to the enormity of it all. So I’m just trying to prepare myself for when he does come to tell me.”

His heart felt wrenched from its veins and ribcage and thrown on the floor with the kick of a dirty shoe. She had already resigned herself for the loss. 

“Hermione, that’s ridiculous. He’s crazy about you. Come on, he had a meltdown because he bought you a book you already owned, feeling like that was something he should’ve already known. And don’t think I haven’t seen him being more affectionate, not just with little kisses but verbally as well. He wants you to know he cares.”

Hermione turned on her stool and looked up at the girl. “If I told him, pick your family or me, what do you think he’d say? I’m a nobody muggleborn compared the pinnacle of high society. I have nothing to offer him in the scale of money, land, power…And if he took me to those balls and public functions, what do you think everyone would say? Oh I’m just in it for the galleons and trinkets; he’s using me for fun until a better option comes along…”

“That doesn’t sound like the Hermione Granger I’ve come to know.” she replied, arms crossed. “Since when are you afraid of what people will think? Since when do you give a damn about social norm? You’re the freaking Chimera! You are breaking boundaries just by existing!” she exclaimed, arms in the air now. “Top marks in practically every class, practicing advanced magic, standing up to authority figures left and right! You don’t fail in anything you do, you can’t even accept being second best, you’re always on top!” she pulled on Hermione’s hands and got her to her feet. “You’re amazing. You really are. Why do think Daphne is so jealous? Why do you think the other Slytherins are so scared of you?”

Hard and heavy silence followed after that explosive compliment, and had he not been sitting he would’ve fallen to the floor in shock. He could hug Tracey right now.

“Why do you think he’s in love with you?”

Heat flushed his face as a chill ran down his spine.

“Don’t let him walk away because of his pride. He’ll look back on this as the single biggest mistake of his life and then all of us will suffer his melancholy for the next fifty years.”

Hermione’s eyes glistened. How had she become so blessed to find herself with such a supportive group of people? She had been in the wrong house all along, from the very beginning. Not a Gryffindor completely, not a full Slytherin, but something composited of both: a Chimera.

“O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?  
Deny thy father and refuse thy name,  
Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,  
And I’ll no longer be a Capulet.” 

Tracey recited, watching the brown eyes widen and the pupils enlarged with admiration and understanding. “You are the Juliet to his Romeo.” 

“And their families hated each other, and several innocents were killed in their longstanding feud. It brought upon the deaths of the two, no happy ending. How does that help if Draco and I are in the same situation as them?”

Tracey flicked her hair back. “You know the play; you know the choices they made. So you just prevent those choices from happening in real life.”

Hermione shook her head. “It’s not my decision that’s to be made.”

“Oh but it is. Is he worth fighting for? How does he make you feel? Are you going to tell me there’s another wizard here that even remotely turns your head?”

Her lip curled in a self-deprecating smirk. The first wizard to pay her any attention didn’t even attend this school and more than likely sought her out because she didn’t fawn over him for his Quidditch prowess. And they’d not spoken to each since the ball (technically since the second challenge), their night cut short by the fight she had with Ron which led to her encounter with Draco. He’d been quickly forgotten in the ensuing rivalry and had probably done well to dodge that magic missile.

The recent rush of infatuation from fawning fanboys was just a by-product of her achieving some sort of status with her name and face in the papers, but none of that was based on anything solid. She was a novelty and would be as easily replaced by the next pretty face with makeup. And Cedric…well, he has a girlfriend-one of her own special friends-and that little “White Knight” moment was just due to being at the right place at the right time and doing the right thing. Of course she would admire someone for doing that.

But Draco had shown her a journal of herself, drawn over the years and spoke of unrequited admiration-for neither had said that particular word, nor did she believe herself ready to entertain that possible realization- and had swept her off her feet with his vulnerability. That willingness to open up a part of himself, that was what she had requested of him. And he’d given her far more than she ever expected. She would always look back fondly on that day, long into her years, the day that Draco Malfoy had truly touched her heart.

Tracey watched as Hermione’s mind wandered, and her cheeks flush with a memory, her lips curled upwards into a smile and a little sigh escaped. “So, is there another wizard or is that all for Draco?”

His heart clenched. He held his breath. His palms became clammy.

“There’s only one wizard for me,” she replied in a resigned voice tinged with sadness. “But there are so many witches out there for him.” She plopped back down on the stool.

Tracey flicked Hermione on the forehead and made a buzzer sound. “Wrong!”

Bewildered, she rubbed the offended spot that had met the backside of the blonde’s fingernail. “Oh come on, that hurt! And you know it’s true. He could have any freaking witch here, even if Anthony doesn’t pan out. Don’t feed me that bollocks that even you couldn’t refuse an offer from him!

“I’mma educate you on some hard truths Kitten, I’m quite content with my half-blood status and place in society where that gets me. I wouldn’t want to shoulder the burden that Pansy and the Greengrass sisters and others of The 28 have. You need to open that big brain of yours and fully take it in on what that means, to be on the Sacred 28-that means absolute pureblood marriages to other absolute pureblood families. There aren’t very many left, my family was on that list long before the official records, but they didn’t want such restrictions so they got smart and married for love, they chose to be with Muggle and other fledgling half-blood families.”

It was a surreal sight, seeing someone pin Hermione in place with an index finger held up for her attention as she sat on a stool like a First Year getting a lecture.

“Draco’s family is one of-if not the-wealthiest of families in not just Great Britain but in Europe. He’s not on the market for the likes of you and me. Only members of the Sacred 28 with eligible daughters are. That’s a very short list considering that the Black and LeStrange families have already married into the Malfoy, and that Longbottom is the last of his line, along with Nott and Flint. That leaves only Abbot, Parkinson, Bulstrode-but not Millicent- Greengrass and Weasley for potential brides. But I don’t see him with his arm around any of those witches, do I? No, instead I see him chasing after some wild-haired Muggleborn with a higher I.Q. than most Ravenclaws and the brazen brass balls of Mecha King Ghidorah-because yes, I watch Godzilla movies-and mopped the floor in a chaotic game of dodgeball and showed up that ginger weasel with some superb wandless magic.” she emphasized with a chef’s kiss, “And you can’t tell me that any witch on the Sacred 28 could all that.”

Hermione’s mouth hung open in the limbo of wanting to refute all stated facts and accepting the damn compliment given to her.

Draco’s mouth hung open too. He might’ve expected an impassioned speech like this from Pansy, even Theo…maybe even Blaise. But not Tracey. Not that he cared much for the opinions of half-bloods-again, another rule implemented by Lucius-but that he’d never had a reason to as long as they were saying something positive. He’d heard the comparison of himself and the Muggle Royal Family of England; he was pretty much the wizarding equivalent to the sons of Princess Diana and Charles. He’d overheard the conversation as someone was explaining to some unknown muggleborn just how important he was and to stay out of his way.

Course, he’d been pretty chuffed at hearing it back then, but not now. The implications of what was expected of him strictly in name of duty and honor meant no freedom on his part, it was just expected. But what he wouldn’t give to shuck off that castle sized load off his shoulders and just be him. Whoever he was.

“So…you…I mean, you don’t think that I wouldn’t be met with resistance?” Hermione asked, sounding just as confused as her sentence.

“Of course you will, but when has that ever stopped you? I have never, and probably will never see again the moment when a student freaking Accio’d the Sorting Hat and ordered themselves to be sorted, then threw a shield around the newest housemates when some red haired arse threw a teacup. I mean damn girl.”

Draco chuckled to himself. He wasn’t likely to forget that moment either for as long as he lived. The moment Hermione stood up, just right before the Accio, his heart stopped. He held his breath. He didn’t blink. Time was non-existent and nothing else mattered. When the Hat shouted out Slytherin he felt his entire body radiate with unbridled joy that sparks tingled at his fingertips. When she walked the distance to his table, and he noted the clear path that had been set before her he knew without a doubt that Dumbledore had prepared-whether Trelawney had a correct vision for once or other means, he’d known this was coming-and felt his stomach flip and drop with every step she took. She kept her eyes focused on a point somewhere off to his side, he didn’t mind, he knew she was steadying herself. He wondered for a brief moment if now he could actually tell his father that she was a worthy witch-oh what a fool he’d been to think so-and how he’d always wanted to see her in Slytherin uniform since the day they accidently switched robes.

Lost in his musings, he hadn’t heard the knock at the door, and he dared not get up for fear of dropping either the apple or drinking glass. Millicent stood at the door, inquiring if Tracey was ready to switch off but was instead invited inside. Tracey flicked her hair back-the action reminded him of how a horse would shimmy and toss its mane-and gave her a condensed version of the topic at hand.

The thicker girl rolled her eyes. “Well hell, if you had any doubts why didn’t you ask any of us?”

Hermione kinda shrunk into herself. “Well, I didn’t really know you, and I thought you were only being helpful because you’re friends with Pansy, and she’s friends with Draco, and you guys didn’t want trouble.”

“You really care too much about what people think of you.” Millicent sighed. “While that may have worked out for you in the lion pride, you have got to get thicker skin because one crack in your armor is all it takes before someone will find and expose your insecurities. Trust me.”

Touché. Everyone knew Millicent Bulstrode was sensitive about her thick solid build and round face. 

Taking the advice, Hermione nodded. “Right, rhino hide. No cracks in the armor. Continue being bad ass in all that I do. No pressure.”

“You’ll be pleased to know that I saw Harry and Theo over with Anthony, Michael, and Terry.” Millie said, leaning over and nudging her lovely roommate with a huge wink.

Tracey squealed. The Millicent squealed. Hermione clapped.

Girls were weird.

“So,” the two half-bloods turned towards their new Slytherin sister, “What do you have planned for Hogsmeade weekend?”

Draco blanched under the hood. He hadn’t progressed any further into planning that, hoping that it being free reign would make Hermione feel less apprehensive about the whole thing. Less like a scheduled event and more like an actual date.

“I…I don’t really know.” She answered in a small, worried voice. “I usually have my weekends booked for study sessions with the guys…they want one off…”

“Has Draco not asked you on a proper date?”

He felt the hefty slap of that accusation from his safe spot across the room.

“Not technically.” Hermione answered. “More like, alluded to it.”

Millicent sucked on her teeth with disapproval. She was certain that he’d been doing well this week but he managed to cock it up somehow. But before she could divulge her opinion Hermione asked for a change of subject that Draco whole-heartedly agreed to in hidden silence. He’d endured enough of hearing how much he’d let her down and how she already felt in comparison to him. 

“You done with your plant project?”

“No, I actually got a little sidetracked.” she replied, hinting at Tracey.

“Oh Tracey’s good for that. So now whaddya gonna do?”

“Probably plenty of boring observation and note taking. I mean, you two don’t have to stick around for that….if you want to leave?”

Millicent crossed her arms. “As if I wanna watch Zabini make a pass at whichever Patil it is or overhear how Pansy is trying to butter up Daphne. And frankly, I don’t find the Weasley twins as entertaining as most others, even though they did an impressive jinx on Weaslerunt’s shoes when he was trying to escape cleaning duty.”

That caught the brunette’s attention. She peeled herself away from her notes for that one. Apparently, Snape had been on the search for him and his two new dimwit cohorts so while they were trying to run off both his older brothers picked up their wands and zapped all three of their shoes, force marching them back to the Potion lab. In a rare fit of gratitude, Snape awarded each twin five points to their house.

“I shall have to express my gratitude as well.” Hermione replied, going back to her notes. “It’s about time someone other than myself call him out for his attitude and try to wrangle him back in line.”

“Hey whatever happened to him and Potter? They used to be joined at the hip.”

Draco tapped his fingernails against the hard skin of the apple he’d yet to bite into. No one else had taken much interest in the obvious split, so they hadn’t discussed it among themselves, let alone with anyone else.

“He made a choice.” She said firmly.

Her tone clearly said it was not up for discussion, budding friendship and soul-bearing as they’d been, she was not giving everything up to the girls. He had to admire that. Hermione knew what things to keep under wraps. After some idle chitchat Millie looked around in boredom.

“It’s too quiet in here. We need some music or something.”

Hermione let out a little snort. “It’s usually not quiet when there’s three boys in here.”

“Be that as it may, they aren’t here now. So, how bout I whip up some tunes?” she asked brightly, wand at the ready.

Hermione recalled that Tracey said she played the harpsichord-a far more delicate and older instrument than the piano-and let her curiosity take the lead, granting her permission. Draco saw an opportunity to finally escape the room-for it had been a while since his last trip to the loo-and carefully got to his feet. He quickly downed the last of the water and shrank the glass to the size of a thimble, storing it in his pocket. He clenched the apple tightly as he silently stalked across the room and towards the door, just before Hermione let down the wards.

“I always keep this place warded, whether I’m here or not. Can’t risk anyone else tampering with the project when I’m not around.” She explained as Millie opened the door and stood in the hallway.

“Accio harpsichord!” she cried and Draco flattened himself against the wall.

The summoned item had been charmed down to doll furniture size, and was not nearly the large target Draco had expected to dodge but was nonetheless grateful for the opportunity to slip by in that moment. As soon as it was in her hands she stepped back into the lab and the door was shut and warded. He’d made it, but he instantly felt a pang of regret for having to leave. His curiosity had been piqued with the conversations he’d observed from the girls and now that Hermione was out of the room perhaps it was time for him to make his own appearance. That is of course, once he took care of his own personal business.  
………………………….

Bodily needs met, hands washed, apple still being carted around-because honestly, where was he going to put it?-and cloak still on, Draco meandered his way through the halls and back down into the dungeons. He’d given his old cloak a much needed dose of use and felt now that he could in turn, go face some of his friends and pretend that everything was normal when it was anything but.

It was scary, how much those damn girls knew about him. He’d rarely entertained their presence beyond more than just needing numbers to back him up on picking on hapless Gryffindors and here they were telling his own girlfriend that he was in love with her and while they may be different in social standards they were well-matched in other ways. Yes, he knew they were well-matched, and even if she was a half-blood she’d be far better accepted into his world than for the muggleborn that she was.

He grit his teeth, forgetting to reset the silencing charm upon himself as he mumbled under his breath through the common room and down the hall towards his own dorm, he was unaware of the bewildered looks from passers nearby that overheard but couldn’t identify the source and shook their heads to clear themselves of the odd blip. He heard Zabini was giving the Patil twins hell so he figured he had the room to himself.

Why the door wasn’t locked, he didn’t know.

Why the room hadn’t been silenced either, he didn’t know.

Why the hell Harry bloody James Potter was sitting shirtless on Nott’s bed as Theo was sifting through his trunk, pulling out Slytherin uniform articles, he didn’t know.

But he sure as hell wasn’t going to be quiet about it.  
……………………….


	51. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What did I just walk into? An existential crisis, that’s what.

“What the bloody fuck?” -Draco

“Holy goddamn Jesus!” -Harry

“Malfoy you motherfucker!” -Theo

Once the screaming and flailing and clothes flying all came to an end, and the three teenagers stood, panting with red faces in all various shades of embarrassment, Draco pointed a quivering wand hand at the door and quickly silenced it-lot of good that would do now-and shut it firmly with a twist of the lock.

“Fucking explain.” He ordered.

“Oi, why don’t you explain first since you’ve been AWOL all damn day?” Theo snapped back, plucking the discarded Slytherin vest and tie and tossing them to Harry without breaking eye contact.

“Like I need to report to you. What are you, the dorm mother?”

“I am if I have to be.”

Harry quickly slipped into the offered clothes, staying silent as possible. Of all the times for Draco to make a dramatic entrance….

“Please tell me I didn’t just stumble onto something that I shouldn’t-”

“What?” Harry snapped instantly on the defensive. “You really think that we’d be doing something like THAT and NOT lock the door?” he snorted. “Theo wants to paint my portrait dressed as a Slytherin, for fun. Figured why not. Jesus, always assuming the worst…”

“He’s got the perfect eyes for the uniform.” Theo stated, as if the situation needed any further elaborating. Seeing Draco roll his own eyes, he piped up with “Might even do one of you, dressed as a Gryffindor. Call it the Great ‘What If?’ and hang it up in the main hallway for everyone to see.”

“Oh I’d like to see you try.” Draco shot back, finally ridding himself of the cloak and tucking it into its own carrying bag. The apple had hit the floor and rolled its merry way over to Theo’s foot. He picked it up, buffed it on his sleeve and slowly brought it to his mouth as Draco started to protest.

Crunch!

“Mmmm,” Theo drawled seductively, eyes taunting his friend with utter delight. “So tempting…”

“You scrawny git.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“I’m not scrawny, I’m on the damn Quidditch team, it tones muscle!” Draco hotly defended his slender build. “Doesn’t it Potter?”

Harry fumbled the necktie upon having being addressed. So far, he’d managed to not incur the dragon’s wrath. He gave a non-committal mumble of agreement as he tried to adjust the tie once more. He’d never been good at it, having never worn a tie before coming to Hogwarts, and relied on Hermione’s somehow expertise at it all of first year to even get confident enough to try it on his own. The tense atmosphere of the room wasn’t helping.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake help the poor lad.” Draco ordered at Theodore, turning away to plop himself on his bed, watching how easily Theo got into Harry’s personal bubble of space, adjusted the silken strap, flattened his collar, and even gave his hair a quick finger-through to straighten it up.

-Sweet Salazar, Millicent was right!

He rested his mouth against his hands, elbows propping him upon his knees, slowly taking this in. And oblivious Potter, just smiling along and thanking him for his assistance. Oh how sickening. Didn’t this boy know anything about flirting? He suddenly felt very guilty about having discovered this in the way he had, for not even Theo had come out to him-his best mate-about this. Was it just fear of being taunted? Did Theo think coming out to Draco would mean he’d mistaken the trust for the actual confession of feelings and fear the rejection? Clearly, Draco only had eyes for Hermione, he knew what he was attracted to and why, but for his friend that was far more difficult to make others understand. Especially people like his father…oh now it all made sense. It made so much bitter sense. Why hadn’t he seen it before?

Theodore Nott Sr. knew of his son’s preference and had tried to beat it out of him. That’s why Theo spent as much time as he could away from home, and whenever in the presence of Narcissa Malfoy he fawned like doe eyed cherub and willingly spent afternoons having tea with her while Draco chased charmed snitches on his own pitch. He’d bet half his inheritance that his mother knew more about his best friend than he did.

“If you two are done playing dress up, I’d like to have the dorm to myself for a moment.” He said, trying to sound snarky but coming off mildly miffed at best. He needed to write to his mother immediately and get answers. He couldn’t handle anymore of not knowing what to do, what to think, what others were thinking of him, what Hermione was going to do in her current state. Fuck it all, Luna was right. He was lost.

Before Theo could flip back with a retort, Harry had grabbed his arm with a shake of his head in a gesture that could only be read as ‘not now’. Harry then picked up his own invisi-cloak and disappeared from sight when Theo opened the door and waited long enough for the unseen to pass, giving his roommate one last look before shutting it behind him.

Quickly grabbing parchment and a quill from his schoolbag, he didn’t even notice the envelopes had been shifted out of place, and would not after pulling them out to scan through once more for reference. Settling into his desk he quickly began his letter, skipping pleasantries and formalities and practically all decorum ingrained in his upbringing with a demand for a swift response and answers to the burning questions he had, and the guidance of what to do.

Sign and sealed, he dashed out to the owlery and called for Ulysses. The mighty bird blinked lazily, unused to the untimely demand of his service, but accepted the envelope and flew off regardless with a muffled flutter. The trained owls knew where to go and the quickest routes-not to mention the location enchantment cast upon them once their training was complete-so he knew he wouldn’t have to wait entirely too long. He just needed to stay in a portion of the castle near a window for Ulysses to return to.  
Waiting was easier said than done of course. Especially when he’d barely eaten, hadn’t brushed his hair, nor truly bothered with his apparel whilst dressing and honestly was still unaware of his thoroughly ruffled appearance.   
……………………

The lab had quickly become a mini recital hall after the first jaunty tune Millicent played to flex out her fingers and the keys of her instrument, for it had been shrunk and stored away for a little length of time. She had grown up in a traditionally strict pureblood household, old traditions and expectations of their daughters ingrained upon her with lessons that every girl of good breeding endured: music, arts, equestrian, dancing…the usual. Unfortunately, Millicent was not a graceful girl, her stocky build off-putting for most boys to dance with since they couldn’t easily lift her, the same reason also discouraging her from settling onto a horse’s back despite knowing the beasts were well capable of holding her, her singing voice atrocious-as it had been described to her by her tutor-and her painting attempts a laughing stock for her older sister to poke fun at.  
The only thing Millicent seemed to be a natural at was her way with a musical instrument, zipping through course after course of string and percussion. Somehow those thick fingers made excellent use for handling the taught strings of a harp or mandolin and hitting with just the right pressure on a piano’s ivories.

Hermione had been transfixed by the sounds coming from the plucked strings-the major difference between a harpsichord and a piano-and could almost imagine herself transported back to the 1700’s where this was all the rage and Mozart was the rockstar of his day.

Tracey Davis however, being the first witch in Slytherin to admit to Hermione of her half-blood status with pride and knowledge of both the wizarding and muggle worlds, knew a fair amount of “traditional” wizard’s music as well as the modern day, and they bonded instantly over their shared passion for the Spice Girls and The Cranberries. Millicent was still learning about muggle movies and music and trends from her weekends and summers spent with the Davis family, and had absolutely loved being invited to see the production play Cats by Andrew Lloyd Webber.

“Do you know Phantom of the Opera too?” Hermione asked with bright enthusiasm. It thrilled her beyond measure when both Slytherins confirmed they did. She could’ve wept with joy.

“Are you an alto or soprano?” Tracey asked her.

“Uh, I haven’t really given it much thought.” Hermione replied. “I do sing along to the radio but I don’t really try for those high notes.”

Tracey nodded like a teacher taking on her first pupil. “Right, then we’ll have you on alto just to start. You can sing the Phantom’s lines and I’ll do Christine’s.”

Blinking owlishly, the brunette was taken by surprise at the bold assigned role. But once Millie drummed her fingers along the keys and started in on the iconic opening, she was instantly drawn in for a little acapella jam session with Tracey taking the lead.  
……………………….

Headmasters occasionally spent their days’ off in their office, reviewing schedules and assignments, potion stocks and disciplinary reports, often calling a student in for a little one-on-one chitchat about grades or anything they felt might be of concern. After all, Dumbledore knew how stressful life as a teen wizard could be, especially for a select few in their fourth year. One eye was permanently fixed on a certain forehead-scarred boy and his closest companions whom had drastically changed this year.

So it was hardly the surprise of a lifetime that it could’ve been when Narcissa Malfoy all but charged in through the Floo connection in his office, letter in hand, hair slightly undone and demanding to speak with her son.

Setting his quill down with not an ounce of haste, the bearded wizard adjusted his spectacles and regarded the noblewoman with a curious brow. With a wave of his hand, suddenly all the portraits of wizards gone by were covered by velvet curtains, charmed for privacy. “Do come in and freshen up Lady Malfoy. I was unaware we were to have a conference today.”

The regal woman dusted off her robes and gracefully swirled her wand to readjust her hair back to perfection before taking an offered rest on the duvet. “Nor was I, but I’ve received a most distressing letter from my son that I fear must be responded to in person. Is this room secure?”

“One of, if not the most in the entire castle.” The old man replied. “Many secrets have been shared in this room, if these walls could talk…” he chuckled at the end of his own little joke. “How would you like him summoned?”

“Inconspicuously.” 

“Too right.” he nodded, picking his quill back up and scribbling a quick note before enchanting it into a phoenix and sending it off to Professor McGonagall. “Minerva is best at that. She’ll have him along in a moment.” He scooted the stack of documents aside to be dealt with later. “Tea?”  
………………………

An enchanted note from Albus always meant the need for discretion, she had learned long ago. A Patronus could be in lieu of a Howler if the message was of no consequence, but the necessity of a small note passed along like that from one teenager to the next was his way of warning before the contents could be read.

~Bring Malfoy to my office~

Not a single pleasantry. Not even formally addressed. Not good.

Pushing aside any query she had as to why this was on her rather than Snape, she wasted no time in using a location spell and following after it to find the little lord of Malfoy chewing his nails in obvious tension filled impatience by the window of the hall beside the library entrance. His disheveled appearance only solidified that something was amiss in the young man’s life that required adult intervention.

“Mister Malfoy.” She coolly greeted, startling him from his worry.

“I’m not doing anything!” he immediately stated, standing up straight and jamming the nibbled-on hand into his pocket.

“Indeed.” she sniffed. It was almost a sight worth laughing over. “But do come with me regardless and do not make a scene.”

He blinked and began to protest but started following the woman regardless of his urgent need to remain where he was to receive his mother’s response. He needed to be where Ulysses could easily reach him. Had someone in the common room complained about the noise in his dorm? If so, then why wasn’t Snape the one to address him? Had he done something else and not realized it? Had Hermione gone to her and said something? The uncertainty of it all had him conjuring worst-case scenarios until they reached the Headmaster’s office.

She tilted her head at the door, motioning for him to enter before her.

-Probably to make sure I don’t try to run off. Fuck, what am I in for now?-

His knees nearly gave out at the sight of his mother sitting with the Headmaster, gingerly sipping tea and currently nodding to whatever the old man had just said before their intrusion. His first most thought was: I’m in trouble.  
………………………

Having been left the office for their tête-à-tête, Draco nervously fidgeted with his clothing and tried to nonchalantly fix his hair, taking the seat the headmaster had previously occupied, still warm.

“You can forget trying to look respectable now.” Narcissa stated with frosty authority. “So much for the manners you were raised with, to address me in such a fashion, but to also greet me as such a state as well?”

He flushed with shame.

“I hope you appreciate the lengths I went through to secure my route would not be so easily tracked. And that I’ll have to make a stop by Madam Puddifoot’s with a pack of raspberry dragon tarts as proof of my sudden leave. The audacity of your letter was almost enough to have me Floo here just to bend your ear, but the nature of it is what concerns me most. So ask your questions and be quick about it.”

He hadn’t touched the offered tea and biscuits, nor the cakes. This wasn’t a social call. But he hadn’t prepared for his mother’s overprotective instincts to kick into high gear with such ferocity although he should’ve anticipated it. Writing them out had seemed the most straightforward and being the path of least resistance into extracting the truth, but he hadn’t prepared himself now and felt tongue-tied.

“Is Theo gay?” he asked in the most horrifyingly bluntest way possible, watching his mother’s eyes widen to twice their size and place a hand to her chest.

The flush that crossed her face before she composed herself spoke volumes as to her son’s lack in decorum as well as the secret she’d known so candidly addressed.

“He hasn’t said or done anything.” Draco quickly clarified, seeing his mother’s wheels spin fast enough to produce smoke. “But his behavior recently…towards someone else. So I need to know.”

“If he hasn’t come forward to you then it’s not my place to say such things.”

“Mother, please drop the propriety act and tell it to me plainly. I’m his best mate and I’ve overheard talk. I need to know if he came out to you.”

She placed the teacup down. “Who’s the someone?”

He sighed and rolled his head. This is why he wanted it in a damn letter. All these fucking hoops. He wrestled with it for a few seconds, but eventually caved. His mother could play the holding-out game far longer than he could and he had far too much to get off his chest to continue. “It’s Potter, mum. Ok? Harry blooming Potter.”

She gasped ever so softly, but it was enough. “We cannot let Lucius hurt him.”

Which him?

“Mother!” he snapped. “Just how long have you known?”

She brought a hand to her mouth for a moment, the emotion of that day when the tearful brunet broke down in her arms and cried because he had no mother of his own to go to, no nanny to confide in, and feared his best friend would reject him as his father had just done.

“I had always suspected it, but he didn’t make it known to me until last year.”

Draco nibbled his lip. He recalled a particular visit in which Theo looked freshly roughed up and sought out the comfort from his mother. At the time, Draco hadn’t thought anything of it than the usual, but the mood in his friend had shifted that day, making him more guarded than normal. Draco had been dealing with his own little turmoil to pay too much attention. Some friend he was.

“What happened?”

Narcissa brought a fingertip to the corner of her eye, wiping a tear before it could even fall. “His father… Nott Sr. caught him sharing an intimate moment with another boy. He was absolutely livid and beat Theodore mercilessly for it, but not before obliviating the memory of the other boy. He banished him from ever returning and made Theo live with memory of what he’d done just to torment him further.”

Draco blinked for several seconds, frozen with the cold dread at his friend’s inner suffering that he’d known nothing of.

“W-who was the other boy?” he managed to ask after a hefty moment of silence.

Narcissa made a gesture with her hand to gesticulate that she couldn’t quite remember. “A Ravenclaw, that’s all I can distinctly remember. He might’ve have been to the manor before for one of your birthday parties, but you know how hard it is to keep track at times.”

-Oh Salazar, please tell me it isn’t Anthony. That’ll just devastate Tracey, not to mention Theo if he’s right there when Potter talks to him-

“Did this really needed to be treated in such an undignified manner?” his mother demanded, stiffening back up to her authoritative air. “Is Harry of that persuasion?”

“’Fraid not, he has no earthly idea. What’s more bothersome is that some of the girls have apparently known this for a while and were voicing their opinions about it when they thought no one else was around.” He wasn’t about to fess up to using his cloak to eavesdrop like some uncivilized crook. “Potter has his idiotic eyes mooning over a girl already taken currently….He hasn’t had the best upbringing.”

Narcissa tsked. “That’s going to break poor Theodore’s heart.”

“Theo already knows. He called him out on it, but I don’t think it’s quite sunk in. Potter had a falling out with his best mate Weasley and Theo’s pretty much filled that void for him, I can see this becoming a huge disaster if the two of them keep carrying on like they are. I just needed to know; maybe I can get Hermione to whisper in his ear and clue him in.”

“Speaking of, where is the enchanting young lady? I would love to have a brief interlude.”

“As much as I’d love for you two to, there’s something else…”

Draco steeled himself with a strong inhale and quoted the letter from his father, regarding the man’s views of Hermione being bait to lure Potter in closer so he can be set upon during the third challenge little over a month away. Laying all his cards on the table, he included that he’d shared the letter with Hermione and her response. And now here he was at a crossroad, unsure of which path to take.

The tea grew cold, the biscuits hardened, and the clouds passed by as the mother and son shared words they hadn’t been free to say in their own home, to voice opinions they’d had locked up, and to breathe a sigh of relief that they were not the only one. Narcissa pulled Draco into a tight hug, a long overdue physical contact that he’d last felt on Platform 9 ¾ on his first day four years ago.

“Your Aunt Andromeda had to make the same decision Draco. To choose family or follow her heart. And while it may have cost her social shaming and the loss of her inheritance, she assured me she was living happily with her decision. Her only regret was that she couldn’t share it with me. Now, I can’t tell you what you should do, if that was what you were hoping for then I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for disappointment. Only you can decide.”

“Mum, don’t put this on me.” he pleaded. “It’s not fair.”

“Draco Lucius Malfoy, you are fast approaching the time in your life where you are considered more a man than a boy, and the choices you make are your own, with the consequences far more reaching beyond what my influences can sooth over. I won’t always be able to make a problem go away with the toss of a galleon or shrug it off as the usual shenanigans of youth. And what happens to me in the wake of such choices should matter, but not at the cost of someone else’s life.”

Draco rested his face in his hands, groaning in frustration at not getting a helpful answer or even a flat out order to follow through on. What he had hoped for was not panning out but only making his impending decision all the more convoluted. 

“Son, close your eyes and breathe in.” she ordered, a hand gently rubbing his back right between his shoulders. “Tell me the first thing you think of when I say: Hermione Granger.”

A little mirthful snort escaped his nostrils as his lips crept up in a smile. “Sitting in the library, eyes glued to the book, hair falling over her face.”

“What does she do while reading?”

“She holds a finger up, ready to turn the page. She often nibbles her lip, especially when she’s hit on something she can’t easily solve.”

“And what do you feel when you see her do this?”

He bit his own lip, trying to think of words when his actions were far more telling.

“Be honest. Tell me what you want to do.”

“Mother…” he whined. This was embarrassing.

“Keep your eyes shut, your mind focused, and answer honestly.”

He sighed. “I wanna bite it.” His face immediately turned red, glad his eyes were shut. “I want to kiss her just to taste the lip balm she uses.”

“And have you?”

“Yes. With her permission.” He clearly pointed out. 

“And how does it feel?”

Again his featured softened like a child listening to a lullaby. “Soft…Warm… Safe.” He breathed out each word slowly. As if those words could ever be enough to describe how it felt but he knew of nothing better to say.

“Does she make you happy?”

“Unbelievably so.”

“Would you stand between her and an adversary?”

“I have!” he exclaimed. “Several times! She won’t let me defend her because she’s just so bloody stubborn!”

“Does she challenge you?”

“Oh gods you have no idea.” He lamented, leaning against her shoulder. “Every single day she finds a new way to test me, to best me, to undermine me and outwit me.”  
Narcissa smiled to herself hearing the tone of her son fall into that uninhibited lovestruck tune as he rambled on about all the ways Hermione Granger outdid him and left him wanting more. How he’d follow her down hallways with a snappy retort just to get the last word. How he’d try outdoing her in class but with few exceptions still came in second place. He was always chasing, always one step behind.

The she dropped the hammer.

“Now imagine her gone.”

Draco’s eyes immediately popped open. “What?” he turned to his mother, blinking in confusion as she ended the happy illusion.

“Imagine these halls without her, no class rival, no more bickering and riling each other up. Who else would tickle your fancy?”

He pulled back; appalled by her sudden switch in manner and the direction of where this little exercise was going. He didn’t want to think how empty this school would be without Hermione to challenge him, work him into a frenzy and get him fired up over a project. There wouldn’t be anyone else, that was the problem.

“Now how does that thought feel?” she quipped, eyeing him harshly.

“No…” he shook his head. “I don’t want to imagine that at all. How could I?”

Abruptly, the woman rose to her feet. Their conversation had taken up far more time than she had expected, and she’d have to come up with something quite believable to tell Lucius upon her return. Running into an acquaintance and losing track of time wasn’t exactly a lie.

“Well son, I believe you have your answer.” She leant down and kissed him atop of his head as he sat there in stupefied silence, hands clasped between his knees, eyes focused on a point on the wall that he couldn’t even describe if asked. His head was in a tailspin of the emotional ride she just took him on.

“I’ll see you soon.” Were her parting words as she exited through the Floo to Madam Puddifoot’s for those treats and a clever backstory to cover her absence.   
………………………..

“Ok, even I have to admit, it does look kinda good on me.” Harry conceded defeat in the mirror’s reflection as he stood in the Art Class room and Theo sat at his easel, rough sketch on the canvass.

“Told ya so.” he signsonged. “It’s all in the eyes Potter. Slytherin eyes.”

“These are my mother’s eyes. Gryffindor green.” he bantered back.

Theo laughed as he mixed paint, adding a touch of yellow to his green to find that right shade. He loved that Harry knew when to take a joke and how to deliver one. Course, being in the immediate proximity of Hermione “The Brain with the Mane” Granger was bound to keep someone’s mind and mouth ready with a witty comeback.

“Did you really mean it?” he asked, ogling himself at a different angle. “About painting up Malfoy as a Gryffindor?”

“I am highly considering doing that just as a gag gift to him for his birthday. What do you think of that? Or would that be crossing a line?”

Harry chuckled. “As long as his father doesn’t hear about it!” he broke out into snorting peals of laughter.

“Oh you’re a right arse you are.” Theo said, wiping his eye and accidentally smudging his cheek with a dab of paint. “Man, now I really wished you’d been Slytherin all along. Think of the hell you would’a given Malfoy all this time!”

“Like I haven’t enough as it is?”

“Stick with me and he’ll never have another day of peace in his life.” He finished mixing his colors and motioned for Harry to stand by the canvass. “Just hold still so I can match the colors. I can always come back and add in details but I need to get the base done first.”

After a few moments of paint smears and a few hums, Harry broke Theo’s quiet concentration. “Hey, what was up with Michael earlier?”

Theo groaned but kept a straight face as he moved closer to the canvass to apply the first layer of flesh tone in the portrait. He’d hoped that Harry had overlooked the frosty demeanor of the Ravenclaw when they approached Anthony, but it was kinda hard not to notice. Not only was he usually described as “the dark one” when standing next to “Golden Boy” Goldstein and “Brownie” Boot, but he’d given such a cold shoulder to Nott’s presence that even his own housemates took notice.

“We used to be friends.” Theo replied solemnly. “My father banned him from ever coming back to the manor, for me to have contact with him…I wasn’t given an opportunity to explain and so he thinks I dropped him like a wet Kneazle.”

“Ah.” Harry said, nodding because he’d been through much the same thing after a boy he’d befriended in school had come over. Uncle Vernon made it quite clear in no terms was Harry allowed company-he didn’t have a proper bedroom so why would he even be allowed friends?-and that was the end of that potential friendship.

Michael had irritably flicked his shoulder length and fluffy looking dark hair while he rolled his deep sapphire eyes at the intrusion of Nott and Potter to his conversation with his fellow housemates, but Goldstein and Boot had been cordial and accommodating when the two had joined them and took a little sit. All while Harry had been straight forward, telling Anthony that his potion partner Tracey-who was a friend of his dear friend-had expressed interest in him, which came as a calm surprise to the blond. Theo then intervened with some of her finer qualities to pique the Ravenclaw’s interest even more, to which he agreed to give it some thought.

Their good deed for the day done, Theo had convinced Harry that he’d look spectacular in the Slytherin colors and just wanted to see it for himself to satisfy his curiosity. Harry gave a non-committal shrug at first but having nothing better to do decided to go for it. So he dashed up to his dorm and plucked his invisi-cloak to meet Theo by the Slytherin entrance to sneak in and try on some of Theo’s offered clothing.

Seeing as they were about the same build, he didn’t believe he’d have any trouble fitting the vest but since he was wearing his usual raggedy casual clothing, he had to strip completely. He thought nothing of it as Theo rummaged through his trunk for spares, taking in more of the details of the room rather than the occasional dart of a pair of olive eyes in his direction.

And then came Malfoy in a flurry of invisibility and attitude. 

It was almost laughable, had he not nearly had the piss scared out of him. And his reaction afterwards was calmer than he expected, for Malfoy was known for temperaments over the smallest of inconveniences. Even after insinuating that there was more going on than what there was, he didn’t even follow through with a demoralizing joke or insult. Which was unusual given how the Slytherin code of friendship usually meant pecking each other’s armor relentlessly for weaknesses.

He could only come to the conclusion that Malfoy-no matter how much a git he might be at times-would not tease his friend about his sexual preference-real or perceived.   
Standing to the side of the easel, he watched the artist at work, being completely at ease modeling the green and silver uniform with a feeling he couldn’t quite describe building in his chest. Time spent with Theo, while brief in the long run, had been just as fulfilling as his the previous years with Ron. They just clicked. Sure, their best mates were in a strange courtship and that meant they needed to be there to either peel them apart or push them together-whichever was needed for the day-and so thus they ended up in a de facto partnership, but they got along. He had guided him all through Spring Break on potions that he had struggled with brewing, and they talked about everything under the sun. Theo might not have been the best flyer but he did appreciate Quidditch and took to his ground-bound version they called Snitch Chase with gusto. The least he could was pose for a painting.

And while Theo would never be Ron, never replace Ron, he seemed to understand him better than Ron ever could. Growing up in the similar toxic environment gave them both something that he couldn’t openly share with others, and then didn’t need to elaborate on when those feelings would creep back up. Harry had never been given the opportunity to find an outlet for his anger, a way to exercise the darkness from within until he first took flight. And being on a broom was exhilarating, made him feel weightless, powerful, and untouchable. If he’d had a broom earlier he would’ve flown away years ago. Perhaps he should. Just pack everything and shoot off, never to return.  
But where would he go, that was the issue. 

Well, his godfather was hiding out at 12 Grimmauld Place, that might just be the only available location within the wizarding community he could go for the time, and be with his legal guardian…who was still considered a wanted criminal…

Yeah, never mind.

“You’re deep in thought.” Theo stated, breaking the silence.

“Yeah. Was thinking of where I could go this summer rather than return to the Dursley’s. Since the break from Ron, I don’t think I’ll be going to the Burrow anytime soon.”

Theo paused in his application of the paint to the canvass. “I would offer Nott Manor, plenty of room naturally, but my father’s not the entertaining sort.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” Harry replied dryly. “Why’d he ban him anyways?”

Despite how much Theo wanted to open up and be true to his new friend-as well as Draco, even Blaise-he just knew that something like that was far too touchy with people, and you could never know how someone would react. His own father had all but disowned him on the spot. He never wanted to experience that again.

He gave a half-hearted shrug. “My father drinks. He gets these terrible moods, possessed by awful thoughts, just imagines up scenarios. Got it in his head that Michael Corner was a bad influence or something…” he shook his head, trying to grasp a glimmer of truth within the lie. “Guess he thought a Ravenclaw would somehow corrupt me.”

“If he feels that way about a Ravenclaw he’ll love me.” he derived with a roll of his eyes.

“Considering that he’s a Death Eater, I’m sure his attentions towards you would not be in the favorable perspective.” Theo replied flatly as he began applying the green to the eyes of the painting. “I’ve stood on my side of the line against my father for years, long before you ever became part of the equation, and through every beating and drunken rant and threat of torture, he will have to Imperio me in order to get me to side with him. Absolutely no love lost between us but he has to have control. He won’t let me leave even though he can’t stand my presence.”

He then set the palette down and wiped his hands, neverminding the smears of pigment against his trousers. “If he ever found out you and I are friends, he’d probably go about it the same way Lucius is. Lure you in close so that way they can get you on the 24th. And I think that’s what’s been the contributing factor of Draco’s disappearing act and attitude. Because Draco worships his father-or at least did unconditionally until quite recent-and now knows he’s at a crossroad.”

In a pause, he took in a deep calming breath.

“I’ll stand with you. I’ll do what it takes, because I’ve already fought my fight and chosen my side. I can’t take the place of the friend that was once Ronald Weasley but I’ll do what I can. That being said, the same cannot be said about Draco. Not yet. And that’s the crux of it all, because if he can’t commit to this mission knowing it could very well send his father off to prison, then it’s going to break the ties between all four of us.”

Harry shifted his feet, listening intently and weighing the words with reverence. 

“I’ll be stuck between my loyalties, Hermione will pull away from him, you’ll go right back to being enemies if he doesn’t commit. And then that will just be an awkward situation down in the dungeons because Hermione will feel surrounded by the enemy. Everything we’ve started working towards will fall apart and your life hangs in the balance. So we’ve got to stick together on this and approach that subject carefully.”

“I don’t want you to feel obligated to choose. You can’t choose between friends-”

“Yes you can.” Theo interjected, smacking the paintbrush harshly against the wooden palette. “When it’s the right thing to do, when you realize the situation is bigger than just you and your friend but the future of the wizarding world, and though it’s not easy, a person can choose between their friends.”

“Theo…I can’t ask this…I’m barely a friend in comparison to the history you have with Draco.”

The brunet nodded. “I know. But you’re being hunted by a pack of fanatics hell-bent on using your blood to bring back their fallen lord. And if Draco can’t wrap his head around the severity of that then he forces my hand.”

“Why Theo?” Harry stepped from his spot by the easel and closer into the personal space of the painter. “Why would you choose to help me rather than stand beside Malfoy?”

“Voldemort already took away your parents; he shouldn’t be allowed the opportunity to take anyone else away. For fuck sake, you lived in the cupboard under the stairs because of him and never knew the love of a real family. And in a way, he’s taken away the love my father could’ve ever had for me. All my father cares about is the possibility of pleasing his precious Dark Lord. Same goes for Lucius. He’s corrupted in his sycophantic worship as well. I’ve seen his decline into this obsession ever since we set off to Hogwarts. We can’t be the only ones suffering because of this scheme in the works.”

There was silence to follow, thick with tension and swirling emotions of compassion, sorrow, and chivalry. The right thing to do was to stop all the Death Eaters, prevent their plan, and end the cycle that had corrupted their lives. 

So now the next hurdle was to make Draco see it.  
…………………………


	52. Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the Owlery, Draco and Hermione have words about their situation, leading to an unspoken answer but agreeing to continue on as normal. Neville gets invited to the lab and witnesses firsthand the intense botanical bond between Hermione and Draco’s plants with themselves as well as each other.

Saturday evening was winding down without incident, but it was noticeable how frosty the atmosphere was radiating off Hermione as she sat next to Draco and did everything in her power to ignore his presence. She hid her face with a wall of hair and kept herself permanently fixated in the opposite direction, engaging in talk with the girls as Pansy was apparently still cozying up Daphne.

Neville inquired on their Herbology project which was now residing in her lab, and she lit up with all the various samples they had procured and were applying to simple potions for reactions. When she noted how the Snowdrop and Dragon’s Breath had started mimicking hers and Draco’s behaviors, he grew really excited and started listing off a plethora of reasons why that happened. Eventually, he was extended an invitation to the lab as well, leaving Blaise as the only one who had not stepped foot inside the space yet. Pansy had for a brief second but hadn’t stayed.

“Some secret lab it’s become.” Draco drawled. “Now it’s half a karate dojo and a music hall.”

That finally got her attention on him. She whipped her hair so quick it slapped across his face. Luckily, he had not a spoon in hand nor his mouth open. “How’d you even know about that?”

Theo pursed his lips tight and arched a brow, aiming Draco a looking that said ‘Do tell’ and left him no shovel to dig himself out with.

“I overheard.” He replied with a shrug. “I came by but heard that blasted harpsichord and the two of you going on about some Phantom. Figured you were having too much fun and kept going.”

She flushed, from embarrassment or infuriation, they weren’t too sure of but no one was throwing Draco a lifesaver if he capsized. She eyed him with scrutiny but finished her dinner with no further blow ups. As Harry and Neville were getting ready to depart, she asked him if she could use Hedwig to send a letter to her parents before curfew. He of course acquiesced, as he normally did, but she still wanted him aware that she would be using his bird. The girls left in their gaggle, and Theo paired off with Blaise, leaving Draco stuck to deal with his girlfriend and fix what he broke.

“Well, everyone certainly cleared off fast.” He remarked dryly. “Almost as if they don’t want to be around us.”

“Or just you.” Hermione easily jabbed at the opening.

He dramatically clutched at his chest. “Again with the sharp tongue. One would think you’re actually trying to hurt me.”

“You’d need a heart first.” She bantered back, taking the lead on the stairs.

Following, he quoted Pansy’s statement of it already being stolen. She fired back that it was just a decoy, that the real one was still hidden away. He protested that he only possessed one heart, as all men do, and he was well aware of who had it. Striving to keep a few steps ahead-difficult with his long strides-she said she had no such item, and that if he had lost something so important that he was a fool. The game their conversation became continued on until they both were short of breath, reaching the top of the owlery tower and finding themselves flush with the mental stimulation of a spur of the moment Shakespearean style argument.

“You don’t have an owl of your own?” he asked as she cooed at Hedwig, her arm out for the snowy white avian beauty to rest on.

“No. It was last year that I got Crookshanks, and he was in far more need of a home than my need for a bird messenger when Harry’s would do. Not like he really had anyone to write home to.”

Ah yeah, that certainly was true. Although he’d been corresponding with Sirius and Remus all this year, keeping them appraised of the going-ons and recent developments among his friends. It was good to finally have not just a friend to write to but a family member who cared. He would’ve loved to have spent Easter with his godfather but he was still laying low for the time.

“I could get you an owl. If you like.” He offered.

She stopped stroking the silky chest of Hedwig. “Wouldn’t that raise suspicion?”

He picked up a heavy falconer’s glove, sliding it onto his right hand and up his arm. Ulysses may be trained well, but couldn’t be faulted for the nature of his sharp talons. Under that glove he had near invisible scratch lines on the flesh of his arm from mishandling Ulysses during their training together.

“Not at all. The Malfoy’s are known for their generous gifts. I can simply have my mother see to the task on her next shopping excursion and no one would think anything of it.”

She watched as he merely let out a sharp noted short whistle, and the mighty eagle-owl swooped silently from his perch in a graceful arc to his master’s arm. He was enormous, and this was now her first time seeing him up close, easily twice the size of Hedwig and more than four the times of Pigwidgeon. He looked like he could eat little Pig for lunch. She strapped the envelope to Hedwig’s ankle clasp and gave the owl a nudge with an upward sweep of her arm, sending Hedwig into flight.

“I don’t know. This arrangement works out fine for now.” She replied, unsure of how she’d feel at receiving such a gift. An owl was another responsibility-granted they were free to fly on their own to hunt for food-but she wasn’t sure her parents would take to such a liberty. After all, she hadn’t exactly kept them up to date on everything happening out of fear that they’d pull her from the school. This letter being sent now was finally addressing certain developments but still downplaying the severity.

Draco turned his head so she wouldn’t have to see the frown that pulled across his lips. He so badly wanted to do a simple act and she always refused. He wasn’t used to hearing ‘No’. Wasn’t used to having his generosity refused, or dealing with such an independent witch. Even if he’d offered to buy Daphne or Pansy an owl, despite them having their own, they’d still accept. It was just the pureblood way. A witch did not snub a gift. And when she did, it meant the wizard had failed in some manner. Of course, she didn’t know that, and he’d promised to try to do things her way, but he had no idea of what that would entail. He swept his hand up to let Ulysses off for a moment before turning back to her.

“You could borrow Ulysses at any time. And I’d rather you at least be receptive to that if you don’t want one of your own.”

Hermione got the feeling she’d wounded his pride again by refusing the first offer. Goodness, was he always going to be so easily offended when she didn’t agree with his every whim? Not like she was rude about it, she just needed to mull it over. After all, she was quite attached to Hedwig and loved the snowy owl like she was somehow her aunt. If she had her own bird, she’d be spending less time with Hedwig…but then again, Harry wasn’t always going to be around for her to have access to his bird. From what he’d said, during the summer duration the Dursley’s ordered him to keep her locked up and only out every couple of days to hunt. They were practically starving his owl of not only food but proper exercise and affection!

His request wasn’t ostentatious, unlike most of his demeanor in their given history, so she agreed.

“Come here.” He said, motioning for her to be closer. “If Ulysses is going to respond and deliver to you, you need a proper introduction.” He slipped the leather glove off and handed it to her, watching her eyes go round. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you hold him, he is a little heavy. But the main thing is not be afraid of him. He won’t respect you if you cower.”

She slipped on the glove, nodding along to his advice, and was momentarily distracted enough to not catch him as he slide up behind her to brace her right arm up until she felt him pressed against her back. “Relax ma petite belle.” He softly instructed, right by her ear. “Now hold out your arm and be still.”

He turned his head away to again whistle, and locked his elbow as he held her wrist. Ulysses swooped down once more, landing on the leather glove he knew so well despite who wore it. The weight of his body, being several pounds, wasn’t much on its own, but in comparison to the feather light Hedwig and Pigwidgeon, it seemed tenfold. Not to mention the impressive wingspan outstretched to the point where she felt the tips brush against her cheek, causing her to turn her face even further into Draco’s behind her. She arched her back and tilted into him, grateful he had a hand on her waist to support her. 

“You’re showing fear darling, straighten up.” he intoned, pushing her upright.

“He’s just so big.” She whispered.

“Of course he is. He’s a Eurasian Eagle-Owl. And he’s quite intelligent, so keep that in mind. Ulysses, this is Hermione. She’s very important to me, so you be a good boy and deliver for her too, yeah?”

Ulysses cocked his feathered head as if to weigh the human’s words and blinked once. Then he bobbed his head and made clacking noises with his beak.

“Ah good, you’ll get along splendidly.” He continued, as if he was having some sort of silent, secret conversation with the avian. “Bring your other hand up. Pet him.” He told her, tapping her elbow that was rigidly plastered to her side.

“P-pet him?”

“Weren’t you doing that just a moment ago with Potter’s bird?”

She swallowed and nervously reached out. The mighty predator watched her with intelligent observation, still as a statue, as she shyly approached his broad chest with the backs of her fingers. After a few strokes he shifted his head, and suddenly stuck down upon her unsuspecting fingers, drawing blood from the index. She cried out and reared back as he clacked his beak a few times, flapped his wings and took to the air as she recoiled against Draco.

“What the hell was that for?” she screamed, startling some other birds. Her hand shook as crimson liquid trailed down her finger and across her hand. Draco turned her around and took her hand in his. 

“Sorry, I didn’t know how you’d take to it if I told you, but that’s how he’ll be able to smell who you are among the student body. Part of the location spell that is cast as part of their training, so they’ll always find whom they deliver to.”

“Damnit Draco!” she smacked him with the leather clad hand. “This is exactly the kind of thing that makes me second guess everything you do! You’re supposed to trust me! You're supposed to make me trust you!”

She tried wiggling free but he held on with determination. “I’m sorry. I don’t always know what you’ll agree to-”

“And that justifies this liberty? To automatically take my blood rather than say, oh I need a drop so he’ll be able to identify you?” Again she wrestled him, hating the fact that he was naturally stronger. If he didn’t let go soon she would go for a tried and true weak spot all males possessed.

Her finger pulsated from the shock and bled freely. Not that this was a life threatening gash, not by any means. She’d donated blood before and they always prick a finger to test the iron levels. Hurt like the dickens for a few seconds and all was well. A bite from a bird of prey was that but of a higher intensity, with two pinch marks-from the other tip of the bottom beak coming to meet its prey-and the unexpectedness of the whole thing had her limb quaking.

“Again, I apologize.” He said calmly. He was too calm for her liking. And she was still upset over the letter from Lucius and him saying he needed time to weigh the pros and cons of what he felt was important, and confused from everything she’d been through with him after this week that before she knew it, tears were burning at her eyelids and she no longer fought to wrench herself free. All she wanted was clarity. Something crystal cut with absolute transparency. No more lies and deceits and airs to put on. Something she wouldn’t have to deal with were she with anyone else. “I know, I’ve said it quite a lot actually. I just need to stop doing things like this.”

“Maybe we should stop everything…all this…” she whispered with trembling lips. As heartbreaking as it was, perhaps being with Draco was more trouble than it was worth.

“I knew you’d come to that conclusion.” he replied sadly. “Ever since that blasted letter…a new wall was erected between us. And I’ve spent all day wrestling with my thoughts, I even spoke with my mother…and I don’t want to have to choose between you or anyone.” His other hand came up, caressing her cheek and catching the stray tear that slipped loose. “You’re the secret I don’t want to keep. I want what I feel for you to be known, so no one can claim that this is just a game or that you’re being coerced.”

“But it goes beyond us Draco…What’s going to happen to Harry-”

“Are you in love with him?” he interrupted, just a hint of his temper in his voice. “Despite saying he’s like your brother, you’re always more concerned for his well-being than your own. You’re not even considering a future with me because you’re too worried fretting over his. For once Hermione, make a decision not based on What Would Harry Do? and for what YOU want.”

Before she could though, he pinched her left hand so her index finger pointed upright and brought her bleeding finger to his mouth. She gasped and tried to pull back as his tongue met the tip of her finger, coated in her liquid DNA. Her mind drew a complete blank and every function she had ceased to be as he let his curiosity take over, rendering her mute.

“Hmm, it’s not any different.” he mused, as if he had expected her blood to taste as filthy as the slur described. Just because she bled red just him didn’t mean it was still somehow inferior, but in fact it wasn’t. There was nothing to separate how her blood differed from his like this. Another lie about her kind, disproved.

Hermione willed herself to think straight. Right now though that seemed impossible as every Anne Rice novel she’d ever read suddenly started replaying in her mind, and recalling how blood practices in ancient cultures could mean a thousand things from being prepared for a sacrifice to being bonded to a potential mate. For life.

“Not that I really expected it to be. But I’ve always been curious.” He said a moment later when the slit had sealed closed and no longer pulsed. 

“I could’ve told you that.” Hermione snapped, yanking her hand away and wiping it along her pants’ leg. She could not have him know how much that affected her. “Now, before you begin any other silly notions-”

“Have you even told your parents about me?” he interrupted, folding his arms across his chest. “Is that what that letter’s about? You finally letting them know about me or writing to tell them you’ve broken it off?”

She shook her head at the accusation of it all, being in love with Harry, telling her parents about him only to end it, trying to tell herself that she wasn’t happy with him and that ending things right here and now was best. That even if his father wasn’t a threat to her best friend’s life that everything would be magically alright between them. There was a whole world outside from Hogwarts that would look at them with doubt and create a permanent grey cloud over their heads.

“Well what then? What is it Hermione? Why are you trying to push me away when you’ve been barely given me time to consider the ultimatum you’ve handed me?”

“I’m trying to save all of us.”

“There is no saving everyone Hermione!” he shouted. “There’s always going to be something that gives, nothing is ever free! And it’s on me. I have to make that choice.” He patted his chest for emphasis. “Can’t you understand how hard this is for me? I’m trying to find a way, damn it I am. But you don’t get to make that choice for me.” he pointed his finger at her. “Oh no you don’t, not after you tell me I have to decide what’s more important. You don’t get to take that away.”

“I can’t be with you if you’re not going to help us!” she blurted out, tears smearing her vision. The shouts were agitating the birds, up in flight and flapping at their perches.

“So if I don’t pick Harry I don’t get you? Is that what this is? What kind of choice is that for you to throw at me? Do you ever think I’d make you choose between him and I? No, I wouldn’t. Because I know you, you’d want to save us both, but you can’t. You can’t always be neutral. And even good people make bad decisions. I wanted to be with you, I’ve fought tooth and nail to come even this far and now you’re just going to throw it all away because of that stupid letter.” His voice cracked with the emotions he was desperately shoving back.

“Stop it!” she cried. She couldn’t take anymore of him coming at her with thoughts she’d often thought herself and still couldn’t answer. 

“I won’t! Not until you realize how unreasonable you’re being, just how utterly unfair you’ve gone about this! You take everything I give you and piss on it with your self-righteousness and doubt and make me grovel for a second of your time and what do I do? Like a fucking fool, I take it all. And what do I ask of you? Eh Hermione, what have I asked of you?” he stepped closer to her, eyes blazing with heated anger, the grey becoming silver in the moonlight streaking in through the window. “You wrap all my friends around your bloody little fingers and they all fucking adore you, you know that? Yeah, they do. They see it now, what I’ve always seen, and they welcomed you here when you had no one else. You’re Slytherin now Hermione.”

Mine. You’re mine. Meant to be with me.

“But even that’s not good enough. Is it? What meets the standard for you? What do I have to do to get you see it? Apparently three years’ worth of sketches wasn’t enough.” He was fired up, just ranting now, throwing himself out there for her to see how she’d hurt him, whether she liked it or not. When she looked over her shoulder to see if their argument had drawn any spectators, he pulled on her hand, forcing her to turn back to him.

“I’ve never met a more infuriating witch in all my life. One who drives me to brink of insanity with just the littlest act. Tossing your hair back, raising your hand in class, perfect scores on a test, impeccable wand technique and spell casting… and yet you can’t be bothered with compliments unless they’re from a teacher, you view everything like it’s a trap, and sure as hell can’t go a day without trying to save the bloody world in some manner. Freeing house elves and going out of your way to protect Potter. But what do you do for yourself? What do you even WANT for yourself?”

His hands were gripping her upper arms, tight but not punishing as he bled his heart out for her. She was stock-still, taken in with his pleas and rants, finally seeing what duress she’d had caused him. It wasn’t that she didn’t care for his feelings, she had just never been aware of the range of them. But he was fully capable of expressing remorse, uncertainty, hopelessness, insecurity and desperation just as she was. In fact, she’d shown hers a bit more around him than ever before in their growing intimacy. But he always tried to have this glorified persona of rigid masculinity of showing no fear, no weakness, that he must always be in control and that his word was be taken and not questioned. She’d finally broken through that façade, seeing his tears and hearing the vulnerability in his voice with concern for her.

They were tumultuous together, like fresh molten lava against the thrashing ocean tide, two opposites meeting, cancelling each other out while building something new entirely. Met with equal force, neither one of them could quite conquer the other. She may have the grades but he had the finesse. What she lacked he made up for, and what he fell behind in she had encouraged until he mastered it.

What did she want? If she didn’t have to worry for the sake of Harry’s life could they actually stand a chance? All she wanted was normal, but she’d learned long that normal was not in the cards for her. Even in the wizarding world she wasn’t normal. Her magical core was far too strong for a muggleborn, eliciting fear, jealousy and awe from those around her. Being friends with Harry wasn’t normal; no kid should have to live a life constantly dancing the edge of being in someone’s crosshairs. Switching from house to the rival one wasn’t normal. And most of all having Draco Malfoy be attracted to her wasn’t normal.

“It may come as a shock, but obviously I’m not perfect.” He pointed out. “But don’t crucify me for every little mistake. I’m sorry about your finger, I’m sorry for the lies I made Skeeter write, I’m sorry for every time I called you a Mudblood and made you cry and made you doubt yourself and I fucking deserved it when you hit me and when Moody turned me into a ferret and all of it. Ok Hermione? Do you see it now or I do I need to scream from the damn window that I love Hermione Granger just so that you know for certain I’m not playing? There’s bound to be someone who’ll hear it.”

He stopped his rant to take a breath, panting now as all the emotional baggage he’d heaved at her feet had stopped and the dust could settle as feathers fell from above in a muted swarm of flapping wings, in and out through the owlery window and above from the perches. 

If he had realized he’d just used the L word he didn’t let on, having brought his forehead to rest against her shoulder. His hands slid down her arms and wrapped around her in a hug that begged to be reciprocated. 

“Can’t you see now how difficult this is for me? If I didn’t care…It would be too easy…but you…” he rolled his forehead along the dip of her slender shoulder. “I can’t make myself not care. I’ve done far too much pretending and it’s eaten at my soul. I need something to finally be real for me….I need you Hermione.”

Her hands came up lowly, flat against his back and felt the shuddering breath he released upon contact. “I’m sorry Draco.” She whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t know the depth of your feelings and how this burdens you. But you must understand my perspective…If you…we’ll eventually have to go our separate ways. It’s literal life or death. Like you said, there’s no saving everyone.”

“Just a little more time, please love. Let me figure out how to do this.”

Malfoys do not beg. Malfoys do not grovel nor do they plead. It’s just not the Malfoy way. Being a Malfoy meant that he was superior among his kind, that he was an expected leader among men and could command the very skies if he should wish it. A Malfoy man made his way through life with the tip of his wand pointed at throats of who would dare get in his way. A Malfoy man was able to have any witch he desired-married or not-and dispose of her just as easily. As it had been for generations, for centuries, since the very origin of their name and first claim to unoccupied land.

Draco Lucius Malfoy was a product of tradition through the ages, of aristocratic teachings and pureblood marriages seeking of selected traits not unlike that those who bred thoroughbred horses. He was hundreds of years in the making, cast into the same mold and expected to wear the same suit of armor and the crown of his title with the upmost pride of the wizarding community. He was the last in his line, and unless something unfortunate were to happen to his mother and his father take a new wife and get her with child, he was the last hope to continue on the tradition.

And currently, that final son and heir to the glorious regime of the Malfoy line had poured his heart out to a muggleborn girl of no consequence, a mere faceless witch in the grand scheme of things, a nobody with no ties to any family, no allegiances towards any religion or faction, and certainly without a single galleon to her name. 

He was already so far out of bounds for what could even be excused as a fleeting fancy, for what he was considering doing to his father and his family name. But the girl was right, this went beyond them, it affected the lives of others, some more immediate but in the long run would in turn affect her too and if he chose to align himself with his father then he would lose her, lose their friendship as well as any affection she held for him. His father was making his own choices, setting his family up to follow in line. In the event of failure, the public might actually become aware of it-without Draco’s intervention-and the law would come down on him. As head of the household he would be held responsible and punished appropriately. 

Narcissa and Draco Malfoy would be left to their own device, scrutinized by society and possibly shunned but if Aunt Andromeda made the best of it then it wasn’t entirely impossible for yet another Black sister to follow that trend. For his mother he would move Heaven and Earth, walk through fire and torrential tides. He’d make certain she was protected before heading off to do Merlin knows what if necessary.

For Hermione, he’d most certainly defy his father. He already had been for years. For Hermione he would walk on broken glass and pluck the moon from the sky. He couldn’t imagine life without her in it, even if she was his enemy. But he couldn’t imagine ever being able to go back that, not when he’d finally held her in his arms, shared their secrets, and felt her lips as he pulled her in. And the lushness of her hair, those waves and curls…a man could get lost in them and die happy. He’d find a way. There was always an answer to every riddle, now that he knew what the answer was; he just had to find the correct path through the maze of potential endings to reach it.

They held each other in silence until the evening bell rang, signaling curfew, startling them from their content and calm embrace. Smiling sheepishly at each other, they pulled apart and closed the owlery behind them before winding their way down the stairs in what could almost be considered a race, rushing to make it towards the dungeons before the final bell of the evening would toll. They’d made it with seconds to spare, bursting through the tapestry and into the common room short of breath and with lingering downy feathers clinging to her hair.

He walked her to her bedroom door, took her hand and brought it up for a kiss while keeping his eyes firmly fixed on hers. The message was clear: I choose you, but I need to know how to protect my mother while doing so. When he let her go he felt every fiber in his being scream at him to follow and stay the night, wrapped around her and guarding her like a dragon with his treasure. He had to force himself to step back and keep retreating, walking the path he knew by heart towards his dorm and bed, where he could hopefully escape the stress of reality for just a few hours.  
……………………..

Sunday morning Draco was immediately assaulted with a pillow by an irate Theodore demanding answers. Casting hopeless eyes at Blaise he was met with crossed arms and a face that clearly read he was not amused-although secretly he was. It took a few minutes to realize that Theo wasn’t even going to let him get dressed nor leave the room for breakfast until he had been given something, so Draco conceded, wanting his morning coffee.

He’d done his fair share of pleading just hours prior and was in no mood to have his word challenged again so he gave his roommates the ultimatum of going straight to her room and asking her if they had “kissed and made up” while he managed to grab some clothing from his wardrobe and dress. Unfortunately too many years of being a grouch in the morning had dulled his effect when he was truly in a state, and they lingered waiting for some kind of confirmation. He pushed past them and marched to her door, just as it was opening to reveal her in another muggle band shirt that read Spice Girls and a pair of shorts, hair bound in a ponytail and her satchel slung over her shoulder.

“Morning.” She greeted cheerfully to the trio, allowing Draco to pull her into a hug. “Are you boys ready for another karate lesson today? Or am I spending the day talking magical plant theories with Neville?”

Just the idea of her spending time alone with even someone like Neville-who obviously held no candle to him, and was already invested with Pansy-triggered that possessive streak lain dormant inside until then and he dug his fingers into her hips just a bit. After spending all day under the invisibility cloak and fighting to convince her to stay with him he’d be damned if he was letting her loose now.

Especially in those shorts.

“We’re not missing another lesson.” He firmly declared, regardless if Theo felt the same way or not. 

“Excellent.” She beamed, taking one of his hands into her own and walking with him freely, without the need for the usual bodyguard blockade. Theo and Blaise shared a tight-lipped glance, wondering what indeed happened after dinner but made no verbal remark about it. The girls came up to join them, Daphne walking alongside Pansy and keeping whatever thoughts she had to herself. 

Greeting their Gryffindor friends at their table, and the one now permanently dining at the nearby Ravenclaw one, Hermione dug into her bowl of porridge and nibbled on strips of bacon as the owls flew in, Hedwig swooping in gracefully to deposit a letter from her parents and catching a strip of bacon that Harry tossed up for her as her treat. She tucked the letter back into her satchel and informed the trio that they’d be continuing with their first punch lesson and adding onto it. When they inquired as to what that was, she merely smiled suggestively and told them they’d have to see. Turning to Neville she leaned over the table and whispered excitedly about having a book to share with him, which perked Draco’s ear but remained calm and continued eating, knowing that if there was anyone she would trust with the knowledge of his mother’s gifted tome it would be plant lover extraordinaire Longbottom. 

Given that last week the Hufflepuffs had run of the pitch, this week the Ravenclaws had dibs, so Cho was dressed in gear and ready to fly. Ginny was excited to see another girl in action and tagged along to watch the practice with Luna in tow, giving Hermione a wave on their way out. Hermione no longer bothered with raising her eyes any further than the Ravenclaw table since all her truest friends were in her proximity, having followed in her journey to the Slytherin table. She knew that if presented the opportunity that the twins would probably have as well, but they were doing their diligent duty as his older brothers to help keep him in line.

She and the guys waited as Neville excused himself from Pansy’s company and joined them, curious as to the developments she and Draco were making with their plants. Once inside he immediately flocked to the work table and ogled the specimens in a neat little row, careful not to touch as he read labels and notes from the clipboard. The rest of the room didn’t matter and he barely took notice of the trio listening to her warm up instructions and making them stretch before they begin.

Sliding back up to Neville she pulled out the glorious Floriography book and made him promise not to share its existence with anyone. Mainly Pansy. For some reason she was still unsure how the girl would react to having received such a magnanimous gift from the woman without even having formally met her. She was unsure of the relationship Pansy and Lady Malfoy might have had or still do and didn’t want jealousy to rear its ugly head over the exquisite book. His eyes widened as if he beheld a legendary treasure-perhaps the analogy wasn’t too far off, given the amount of gemstones and gold but also the knowledge contained within-and he handled it at as such. Delicately and respectfully.

He pulled a stool up to the table, sat, and one-by-one flipped a page at a time, marveling at the hand drawn diagrams of dissected plants, imparted knowledge gathered from over a hundred years ago as it was first discovered and thus named, and samples captured in stasis for further pollenating. Lost in his own little world he drowned out the sounds of grunts and groans and expelled breaths and little war cries as Hermione maneuvered the guys into position and had them start getting into the flow of their first lesson. Once they had it down pat, she instructed them to add on an additional move to the sequence to disarm someone with a wand in hand. This meant partnering up.  
She took Theo and made Harry work with Draco, knowing that their endless need to one-up each other would prove useful in following through on her instruction, and she wouldn’t have either of them complain about going against her. Theo was always willing to work with her and knew she would be firm but fair. The following hour was a mix of them switching between offense and defense, and switching positions from different angles to disarm should they be held at wandpoint from the side or behind, much like how she’d been trained to react to being held with a knife.

Observing her schedule, Neville went ahead and went about keeping the remaining bulbs fed and watered, even going so far as to trim the dying leaves off and collect them should she want them for another ingredient to test. Currently, she was showing Draco how to escape a chokehold and shouted over her shoulder to him that she trusted his judgment as Draco tried to do the grab and twist motion she’d just shown them. He looked over the Petri dishes and noted that there was no change in one, and a slight discoloration in the second, and dried residue in the third. With how precise her notes her it was easy to see where she had started and left off with testing droplets at a time. For all the week of gathering samples she still only had small batches to work with.

He opened the book and brought it to the page on Dragon’s Breath, looking at the drawing and then back at the current one residing in the glass dome. The tiny Snowdrop had its long stemmed spathes wrap around the Narcissus, just as Hermione was currently wrapped around Draco, despite their height difference, she had him pulled down to her level.

“Interesting…” he noted, scribbling this detail on a new page in her notebook. The plants had a strong bond to their handlers and each other. The plants reacted not only magically, attracted to the magical strength of their caregiver, but emotionally as well. Rarely observed so prominently, documentation of cases like this were rare to the point of legendary and mainly among those who became Herbologists or Potioneers. He quickly set to writing his observations as he watched the humans interact, and the plants interact, separate but still as one.

Draco had successfully flipped Hermione over himself and onto her back, she shot him an encouraging thumbs up to show she wasn’t hurt and quickly hopped off the mat as Harry was next to strike, but from the side. He was quick, memorizing the sequence she had taught them and immediately had Harry thrown to the mat as well, leaving Theo to come at the front and knock him down.

“Two out of three isn’t bad.” Hermione said as Theo pulled Draco to his feet. “Enemies won’t give you a chance to recover; you’ll have to expect an ambush.”

Next was Harry’s turn, followed by Theo. She noted that each boy had a certain weakness when engaging in an enemy: Draco with face to face, Theo with the side, and Harry at his back. It made sense in a way, Harry was always foolhardy and rushed right towards the danger, Draco had slunk away on many occasions when confronted personally, and Theo was diligent in watching his back but in doing so left his opposing side open.

After the trio were thoroughly exhausted and panting on the mat, chugging copious amounts of water and discussing what better way to address their weak spots, Hermione bounced back over to Neville and thanked him for his assistance and marveled at how well he kept her station neat. He handed her the notes he took as he watched her lesson and her eyes widened.

“They do the same thing as us?”

He nodded. “It’s fascinating Hermione! There’s two cases right here in front of us of a plant/wizard bonding which I have actually observed in action! Oh if only I had a camera handy, I could’ve recorded it for you. But both you and Draco have strong magical cores, that’s easily deduced, but to also have your plants react to each other in such way…” he trailed off, overwhelmed with the ramifications of what it meant. Surely these two could tell, right? They knew…how they feel about each other? More than the superficial “Like” and the wrackspurts floating above their heads, only deeper and far more personal.

Surely they knew.

“This book is an incredible resource.” He said, switching to a safer subject. He was certain it was not his place to tell them, not when they both could outwit him any day of the week. “This was an exceptionally generous gift.”

Draco said the Malfoy’s were generous with their gifts…

“You take wonderful notes Neville, thank you. I would’ve missed out on this completely otherwise!” she exclaimed, pawing through the pages detailing the movements of the plants within the dome and how it correlated to her own actions with Draco. “I might need you to stick around for further observations…”

“I’d be happy to contribute to your work, it’s fascinating.” He replied, knowing that not many young wizards shared the shame affinity he did for botany. “With enough information gathered we could perhaps put it all into a book.”

“That would be incredible Nev, a student hypothesis-turned-publicized work, between two rival houses no less! People would buy it just for the notoriety alone even if they had no interest in the subject matter.”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Draco asked from his spot on the floor with the guys, having clearly overheard their conversation. “After all, I am supplying the second half of the subject matter.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head a little. “Of course, have him realize only now what he’s contributing to the experiment when it comes time to credit the work.”  
“I heard that.” He growled.

“You were supposed to.” She shot back with a snarky smile.

Neville bit his lip trying to contain his laughter. These two were ridiculous together. 

Draco shuffled to his feet and came up to them, leaning his chin into her shoulder. “What’s going on anyways? If you haven’t noticed, I’ve been preoccupied with a little something.” He indicated to Neville, knowing the boy had been scribbling furiously in the notepad earlier. He was pleasantly surprised to learn of the botanical bond between his own plant and of hers, how they reacted together. Course, he’d known that since that day in the greenhouse when she cried in his arms, but he merely thought it a fluke due to her heightened emotional state. Now to find out that every time they interacted in proximity the plants were as well was an altogether new component in his relationship to her.

“Neville’s going to assist in our research by observing us and our flowers and note any furthering developments.” She concluded. “Obviously, we’ve missed out on their interactions when I’ve been teaching you guys. This goes just beyond what we saw in the greenhouse.”

“What happened in the greenhouse?” Neville asked innocently, watching an embarrassed flush creep across both the Slytherin’s faces. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw how the larger Narcissus was leaning down heavily upon the Galanthus and slowly crept a pointer finger in their direction, catching both Hermione and Draco’s attention, motioning ever so slightly for them to turn and see. True enough, even standing together in their intimate embrace, the two bulbs were as well.

Quietly, Theo and Harry got to their feet and tip-toed over to finally catch in on the action. Neville had slid the notebook back over to himself and was taking diligent notes-even though technically nothing was happening-while the couple in question had turned to each other, his arms holding her waist with hers resting on top, grasping his elbows. Leaf touch leaf, bulb face angled towards bulb face, the flowers in unison. The room was quiet except for breathing, shallow and soft as it was it felt like a blustery breeze in the otherwise still room. Neville couldn’t wipe the grin off his face as his thoughts threatened to spill out as he snapped his eyes from both pairs of paramours. There unfortunately wasn’t anything mentioning this in the magnificent Floriography book, but it would make a wonderful addition should she feel inclined to include it.

If blood purity had never been an issue, if wealth and social status wasn’t a contributing factor, and if their past animosity had not taken up so much of their first years here, then it would be obvious to everyone that a certain then-Gryffindor girl and Slytherin boy were meant to be.  
……………………….


	53. Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skeeter’s newest article attacks the budding friendships and romances between the Gryffindors and Slytherins, as well as Snape’s reputation as a competent Potion Master.

“No really, what happened in the greenhouse?” Neville asked, quill to notebook like an eager student taking dictation. “You two aren’t entirely surprised by your flower’s behaviors, was that the first instance?”

Draco certainly didn’t want to share the then private moment, but he knew how she was when she was on the scent of a discovery. And noting their first instance of the flora was going to be pivotal in their research, especially if she was serious about turning all their dutiful chronicles into an actual book. 

“It was right after he gave us the assignment,” he started, “I’d just gotten my hands healed up thanks to her deal with Snape and was being quite….verbal about how I felt about the how situation.”

The three boys remembered that conversation all too well. It was one for the history books. Neville diligently kept inscribing. 

“Granger here was upset about how the Gryffindors were treating her only a point winning prize pony and became a little emotional.” He literally felt her piercing mahogany stare at his choice of word but soldiered on. “And I…well I was holding her like this, swaying a little. When she stopped and collected herself started looking at our flowers and came to realize they were opposite in nature, so we grabbed a dome a set them inside. Low and behold, they started mimicking our previous action. It looked like they were dancing at first.”

“Fascinating.” Neville murmured, still writing diligently.

“Ah, that’s why you came bursting into the Great Hall like you’d make the breakthrough of the century.” Harry said, recalling how she’d whipped out a quill and loose parchment and started her on tabulations.

Draco’s chuckled interrupted Harry’s reminiscing. “Oh that’s not the only reason why she hauled out of there so quickly.” He intoned with a devilish smile. “I told her I’d throw her over my shoulder and make her eat if she didn’t leave willingly.”

Hermione’s face scrunched up as she was brought back to that moment, now wondering what would’ve happened had she called his bluff. They were only just friends then-at least, to her they were-and that moment at the pond had been for experimentation purposes only, nothing more-or so she thought. 

“Oh that would’ve been a sight.” Theo laughed. The image conjured had everyone contemplating the dramatic entrance of said Slytherin Prince carrying a thrashing and wild-haired, probably screaming Gryffindor Princess, marching through the Great Hall like he’d successfully beheaded a dragon and unceremoniously plopping her onto her bum and ordering her to eat a full meal. “Why didn’t you? That would’ve been a fabulous way to start courting.”

“Ha!” Draco barked. “As if she wouldn’t have hexed me within an inch of my life?”

Hermione cocked her head to the side. “And I would’ve too.”

“There you have it.” The blond concluded, both to Theo and Neville. He settled his eyes on Potter. “I told you, I’ve been a gentleman.”

Harry held his hands up in mock surrender, choosing not to engage in that debate again. Hermione cast a suspicious eye between her best friend and boyfriend knowing that a conversation of sorts must’ve occurred, not that it upset her one bit for it was very much needed if they were ever going to get along. Harry already had enough inner turmoil from ending things with Ron, he didn’t need to worry that she was in danger of being taken advantage of from Draco.

“If there are any other instances of your plants reacting to your behavior that you can think of, be sure to include them with your notes-dated if possible so we can keep track.” He said, attention on the notebook as making sure to do just that and not taking in the shared look of guilt they both wore when recalling the incident in which she’d assaulted him in her rage over finding out he’d had Skeeter slander her. What had the Fairy Snowdrop done to the Dragon’s breath then?

“Neville, can you lift the…?” she asked, coming up to the table with Draco right behind. Obediently, the Gryffindor carefully plucked the glass dome upwards and Draco reached first, taking hold of his plant and bringing it closer to his person for inspection.

“Has anyone touched these besides you?” he asked them. Their Herbology project was to rear one from a seed and through its bloom and hopefully on towards pollinization. Mishandling another’s plant would affect its growth and botanical bond to its handler, effectively sabotaging their work. No hands but your own to your plant. A fact that had slipped her mind that day when she absentmindedly reached for it, only to be stopped in time.

“Only we’ve handled our own, as per the instructions.” She answered as Draco frowned, his eyes finding tiny whip-like marks in the stem and petal of his daffodil.

“It would seem that they react, even in anger.” He quietly stated, pointing out the largest of the gashes for her to see. Hermione winced with guilt. His plant shouldn’t have had to suffer for his-well theirs-combined volatile behavior that day. 

“Anger?” Neville echoed. Theo and Harry shared a nervous glance. Just how much of their relationship was going to put out there for everyone to read about in the pursuit of knowledge?

“We had…a confrontation…” Hermione softly confessed. “And I struck him.”

No one said he needed to know how many times, or where, and why.

He made an ‘Ah’ face and nodded. Then grabbed the quill.

“Do we really have to include that part?” Draco asked, setting his Narcissus back onto the base where its counterpart awaited. “That was honestly a more private moment than the greenhouse incident and not something the entire wizarding world needs to know.”

“Well it wouldn’t be the first time she openly smacked you.” Theo quipped, not helping Draco’s case at all.

“It’s all for the study.” Neville intoned. “You can go into depth on the situation or leave it vague, but I’m still logging it in. When did that happen?”

“On the 11th.” He stoically answered, remembering how his eyes fixed on the dome and zoned out as Hermione wore herself out against him. He hadn’t paid too much attention but perhaps he had seen the Snowdrop lash out on the Dragon’s Breath. He was pulled from his thoughts when he felt Hermione lean into him, her guilty conscience wanting closure for the way she reacted that evening. His chin rested right over the crown of her head as he pet her curls in a soothing manner, not even realizing that his flower was soon following suit with one of its broad leaves.

Neville easily read the body language, they didn’t want to talk about it and with it being fairly recent it was still a bitter memory but their botanical project reacted all the same. "This is unprecedented.” He whispered. “They react so fast, literally seconds behind you. I wonder what they do when you’re apart?”

“Probably behave like proper plants and just soak up sunlight.” Theo shrugged. “After all, isn’t the bond only really effective due to proximity? They react to the magical core within the witch or wizard, it’s not like they’re bloodbound or something.”

“You might be right.” Longbottom conceded with a thoughtful finger pressing his chin. “But this definitely requires more observation and experimentation!”

Harry, who had remained quiet during the majority of this conversation, was mentally berating himself for not coming to Neville sooner for advice on how to care for his Herbology project, having killed the poor thing before it properly bloomed. He didn’t exactly have a nurturing personality towards non-sentient forms of life and had never been given the opportunity to handle plants in any positive way. His experience with the greenery had been to hand yank weeds from the garden in fits of frustration at the Dursley’s.  
Theo and Draco had reservations about Neville’s invite, but the room was Hermione’s and it was to her discretion on who was allowed entry. Neville though had turned out to not be the nuisance they originally credited him for, and when in his element he was an efficient student and kept his nose out of personal business. Not once had he overstepped bounds by asking for more details regarding their relationship. Granted yes, it was embarrassing to admit that they’d had unpleasant moments together but they were bound to in the change from enemies to friends to something more.

Without realizing it, Neville had earned a modicum of respect from the Slytherin boys. It came not a moment too soon, for suddenly there was a quick pounding on the lab’s door and a frantic Pansy demanding to be let in. Immediately, Draco undid the ward and opened it to find she wasn’t alone and was nearly flattened by the stampede of housemates that charged in through.

Scooting aside to let Pansy, Daphne, Tracey, Millicent and Blaise in all at once, brandishing copies of the Daily Prophet in a cacophony that couldn’t be deciphered until Draco managed to get all of them silent, the room had filled considerably.

“Shall I ring for tea?” Theo joked, trying to keep the mood light.

“Have you read this?” Pansy all but shrieked, thrusting the folded Prophet against Draco’s chest.

“Obviously not, as I’ve been in here all morning learning how to escape a chokehold.”

Blaise threw his friends a curious glance, wondering what the hell was he missing out in this little room. Chokeholds? Plants and lab crap in the corner? Just what was this little room anyways?

“It’s Skeeter.” Pansy seethed through gritted teeth, immediately setting Hermione’s hairs on edge. Draco opened the folded newspaper and read the damming headline, holding it out for the others to see it as well.

AMORTENTIA IN THE AIR? A Hogwarts exclusive by Rita Skeeter

One might say Love is in the air, or is that just Amortentia I smell? Because it would appear the power of partnering up in Professor Snape’s Potions lab is strong enough to carry on outside of the classroom and into other houses, Gryffindor for instance.  
Has anyone else noticed a trend of late? Most noticeable in the case of Miss Granger before her treacherous leap from the lion’s pride to the snake’s den, she was spotted on several occasion to be in the company of one Draco Malfoy. Now the two are damn near inseparable and their influence has carried over to the likes of Slytherins Blaise Zabini with Parvati Patil and darling Pansy Parkinson and Little Longbottom of Gryffindor. Sources can confirm that they have been seen walking in the courtyard together along with now bosom buddies Harry Potter and Theodore Nott who spent all Easter break learning new potions together. “How the hell does she even know that?” Theo barked, eyes darting around between all his friends.  
“And what makes her think I’m with Parvati just because we brewed together? That’s literally the only time I’ve ever worked with her and I had to do nearly everything!” Blaise crossed his arms angrily.

Will Slytherin’s own princess, Daphne Greengrass fall prey to the whims of Susan Bones and forsake her duty to produce an heir for her prestigious family? Will Goldstein end up with Davis’ heart in his hand? One must question the ethics of Severus Snape’s teachings if he allows such cavorting between lab partners to carry on or is this all part of a grand scheme to create a more unified Hogwarts for the sake of the Tri-Wizard Tournament?

“The nerve of that woman.” Daphne growled, fingernails digging into her own arm as she tapped a heated foot on the floor. Hermione shot her withering glance but was more concerned for the frantic face Pansy was making in Neville’s direction. He seemed to know immediately what she was going to say and started to hang his head and shuffle off the stool.

“I’m sorry Nev…” she began, placing her hands on his chest. “I didn’t tell anyone…I wanted to be absolutely sure when I did….”

He nodded slightly. “I understand.”

Wait, what? What was happening here?

“Wait a minute.” Harry exclaimed. “You can’t just call it off like that, not because of this drivel!”

“You don’t understand, my parents want not only another Sacred 28 pairing but a wealthy one.” Pansy replied with regret lacing every word. “It’s not like we don’t have enough of our own, but they wouldn’t approve either just because he’s Gryffindor.”

“Like that makes any sense!” Harry blurted, fists clenched at his sides. “None of this pureblood courting crap does!”

“Welcome to the club.” Blaise drawled. “Now to be fair, it is all outdated beyond measure and shouldn’t have to continue to apply to us, but we’re not yet old enough to make our choices legally. So we’re stuck. Some with more freedoms than others but not by much.”

“We can’t let Skeeter get away with this, this is slandering far too many with speculation and conjecture. Reputations can fall apart from people believing everything they see in print.” Draco fumed as Hermione took the newspaper from his hands and quickly scanned over the article.

After a moment of speed-reading she gently folded the newspaper back along its already creased lines and set her hands on the table as she leaned her back against it. The focused-but-not look in her eye and hunched shoulders was a tell that she was deep in thought. Draco waved his hand at the crowd and shushed them as her mind began to work. Little gentle murmurs escaped her lips as she started ticking off major points to herself. 

A moment later her eyes snapped back into focus. “Harry, I need to use the map.”

He nodded.

She turned to address everyone in the room. “I need everyone to stay here except someone willing to return to the dorm with me. Millie, where’s Crookshanks?”

“I’ll go.” Draco said, coming to her side immediately but she shook her head.

“I need you to stay, help Pansy.” She replied softly. “Don’t let her break Nev’s heart over this.”

Millicent informed her that Crookshanks had taken to playing with her own cat, Morgana and would probably in her dorm if they weren’t in the common room.

“Fine, I’ll go with you.” Daphne said. “No one’s gonna mess with you if you’re with me, considering that Skeeter has no scruples and is now defaming my name, I think I ought to see what you have in store for the wench.”

Draco shot her a steely glare that did not go unnoticed. She certainly had not earned her forgiveness from him, or Theo for that matter.

“I’m not going to harm your witch Draco. I’d be a fool to after volunteering for her stupid bodyguard service.”

“She has a point.” Theo quipped, still eyeing with scrutiny. “Perhaps we should let her prove herself.”

Hermione was at the door, head poking out to see if the cost was clear. When Daphne came up to her she reminded Draco to ward and silence the room so their conversation would not be overheard. The two witches left without further ado, leaving him to close the door after them.

“Why do you need a map?” Daphne asked as she fell in rhythm to Hermione’s fast paced steps.

“Shh.” The brunette responded. “It’s not safe to talk.”

For a moment Daphne thought it might have just been paranoia, but then again, Skeeter’s latest article hit too close to be merely guesswork. She would’ve had to have been there in order to get the information she printed. And whatever was going through the swot’s head that she currently wasn’t sharing so she trudged along quietly, stealing little glances at the girl and seeing the wheels still spin in her mind. Seeing that brain in action was actually a curious sight.

“Thank you.” Hermione said suddenly. “For deciding to come with me-not that I like relying on having constant supervision, but well…there you have it.”

Daphne harrumphed. It wasn’t from charity, but this article was attacking herself, Pansy, and other close friends of hers. Something needed to be done about that woman and Granger seemed the right one for the task. Yes, Blaise and Pansy had made valid cases when speaking of her. Daphne was not foolish enough to deny that Granger possessed brains and uncanny charm; it was as evident as the colors of the founder’s houses. But Slytherin had always been a house established on pureblood and even half-blood pride, carrying on the tradition of their prestigious families back when only the cream of the crop were allowed an education. Now Hogwarts was open to all, even allowing Squibs to be employed as faculty! 

Perhaps Granger was an anomaly among her kind and nothing more. And while she still couldn’t understand how quickly she’d been accepted by her peers she remained ready for the eventual fallout that was bound to happen. But for now, she’d set her distaste aside and see just what the Chimera was able to do against the public nuisance Skeeter was.

At the door of her homely little slapdash room-for only Granger would consider an abandoned reading room adequate to become a bedchamber-the girl turned to her and requested she peek into Millicent’s room for her Kneazle beast. Daphne stood there, incredulous at the notion of doing a task for the Mudblood. Not that she wanted to even be in the tiny bedroom in the first place, but she certainly didn’t want to be near that terrifyingly ugly feline thing.

“Please Daphne; just confirm if he’s in there. It’ll only take a second.”

“Fine.” She gritted through bared white teeth and marched off. The moment she was out of earshot she leaned over and whispered the incantation to open up the map after removing the illusion she’d placed on it. The last thing she needed was for someone like Greengrass to learn of the map without Harry’s consent. If he agreed, that meant five more people would know about it other than the Weasley’s, Draco, Theo and herself. Goodness, having a dozen people informed about such a delicate token was certainly too many for comfort-especially if anyone had qualms with the invasion of privacy it allowed. It would definitely cause problems if anyone wanted to spy on a suspecting spouse or if they felt vindictive enough to turn it into the headmaster.

Yeah, perhaps it was best to keep it close to the tight-knit group that already knew and no more. 

She tucked it into her satchel and then dug into her trunk for a jar, just as Daphne returned with Crookshanks in tow. “Seems the thing is smart enough to realize you sent for him, so he came of his own volition.” 

“He is quite smart.” Hermione replied with pride. He was a wonderful asset to her team. “Ok, got what I need. Let’s go.”

“Did you actually transfigure all this yourself? That’s what I heard.” Daphne inquired with a little hand wave towards the furniture.

“Yeah, seems as if I wasn’t worthy enough to be somebody’s roommate so I made do.” Hermione replied with just enough bite for Daphne to register that she still had not forgotten the tantrum she threw over the idea of having a Mudblood sleep in the same bedroom as her pureblood hide. She slipped the satchel strap across herself. “I always do. If it’s one thing I’ve learned at this school, it’s to have my own back if no one else will.”

She motioned for Daphne to leave first, and for a moment the blonde faltered, recalling what an absolute terror she’d been on the pitch during dodgeball, being a one-witch army against half the class and holding nothing back. Granger had her own back alright, and held nothing back either. She was more than capable at handling her own, with the way she’d flipped her over that chaotic morning in the dungeon. It dawned on the pureblood that she probably didn’t stand a chance in fair fight against the newest member to their house. Perhaps being at odds with her wasn’t such a good thing…

With Crookshanks in tow, they began retracing their path back to the lab. Daphne couldn’t help but start getting a few questions off her chest. “Why do you even have the lab? You’re not Gryffindor anymore.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to abandon my project when I’m on the brink of a discovery. It’s never been about house points to me. I’d continue this work with or without them.”

“Still can’t believe you spoke to Professor Snape like that.” Daphne let out the tiniest of chuckles.

Hermione pitched her eyebrows in agreement, she’d heard that so many times by now that it no longer required a verbal confirmation. “Are you seriously teaching the guys to fight?” Daphne asked next.

“Yes. Is that so shocking?” Hermione replied, eyes forward.

“It’s not a ladylike-” the blonde started.

“Neither is attacking another housemate.” Hermione interjected. “So get off that pureblood high horse shite about what’s acceptable to you.” She flipped her hair and shot the other Slytherin a hard gaze. “I’m not in Slytherin for your approval, but you have to accept the fact I’m not going anywhere else.”

Daphne squinted her bright blue eyes at the brunette. She had some nerve speaking to her like that! No class and refinement, completely without respect for her betters, and to even go so far as to emulate her own mannerisms! The outright nerve! “How dare you-”

“Oh shut up.” Hermione scoffed with a roll of her eyes. “I’ve heard it all from you purists and it’s a broken record now. If you don’t have anything new to insult me with then I suggest you keep a lid on it and save your breath for when you do. There’s more important things going on than how you feel about me and frankly, your petty grievances don’t even make it on my list of problems.”

Daphne felt slapped by the ferocity of the former Gryffindor’s words, if not a little impressed but she’d never admit that. It still rankled her ruffles that Draco was attracted to that kind of thing, over someone as refined as herself. It surely was a phase. He’s jabbing at Daddy Malfoy and getting it out of his system. Surely by the summer he’ll be set straight.

“Fine, whatever then.” She huffed. “If you’re so sure of yourself then what’s the jar for?”

“Catching vermin.” Hermione coolly answered. Something small and green and shiny.  
……………………………

Back in the lab, Draco had managed to calm Pansy down and prevent her from breaking things off with Neville completely, who was being equally comforted by fellow housemate Harry and bleeding heart Theo. He knew where her panic stemmed from, not that she didn’t care for Neville at-no, quite the opposite-but because of their social standing. He promised to put in a word with his father and see if Lucius could convince Reginald Parkinson to let Pansy choose another member of the Sacred 28. Considering what he already believed he was doing with Granger, he figured it couldn’t hurt to try.

Pansy was suddenly wracked with guilt and begged Neville’s forgiveness, which was the scene that Hermione and Daphne stumbled upon as they entered the lab. Millicent came up to them and gave them a quick run-down of what they missed before bending down to scratch the hind end of the ginger feline.

“Pansy, it’s alright, I understand, truly.” Neville said, rubbing a hand over her shoulders. Truly he did, he knew how it went with the upper-class among the purebloods. He didn’t fault her for keeping their fledgling courtship quiet, or wanting to halt it completely to prevent backlash. 

She wiped at her face. “You’re too sweet Nev. Honestly.” 

“Ok Big Brain, what’s the plan?” Blaise said from his spot against the wall, arms folded over and ankles crossed. His whole demeanor reeked of the Slytherin bravado Hermione was coming to decipher so well.

“Whatever is said in here must be kept secret. I need everyone to swear on it.” She met everyone’s eyes as she looked them all over. “Whether or not you agree with me, like me, or trust me. This is my lab and if anyone has a problem, you may leave now.” Her eyes rested on Daphne.

“We may not be friends, but I won’t turn away someone out to get that journalist.”

“Not exactly a compelling argument there.” Blaise chimed in. “But go ahead, I’ll hold the door open for you even.” He motioned as if he were a butler and Hermione was seconds away from casting a guest out through the foyer.

“Fine.” Daphne growled. She made the zipper motion across her mouth.

“Homenum Revelio.” Hermione cast to everyone’s bewilderment, watching as they all emitted a glow and she counted, making sure all were accounted for. “Excellent, no one else is in here.”

She marched over to the work table and pulled out the jar and the map. She motioned for Harry to come over, and then made shooing motions for everyone else. “Alright, you decide. Do we let them in on this?” she whispered.

He cast a glance back over his shoulder. Far too many Slytherins for his liking. Maybe Pansy and Blaise, but the other three he couldn’t say he knew a thing about them. He leaned back over to her. “Not the entire truth. If you can come up with something, keep it vague.”

She nodded and motioned for him to join the others. Inhaling a deep breath, steeling her nerve for the conclusion she had come to. Turning around to face them all, she said the next four most important words they had heard all year:

“Rita is an Animagus.”

Naturally, there was a selection of shocked faces; mouths opened, eyes wide, stiffened spines, but they all waited for the explanation. She laid it all out, the jerky movements, large eyes, repulsive aura, several sightings of an insect she’d never seen before, and how the woman knew such intimate details of their potion classroom. Suddenly the others started recalling times when they saw a strange green beetle, in other classrooms where bugs normally didn’t linger.

“I think she’s been using her ability to spy on us for intimate details, which means any of our conversations this year could’ve been monitored. I don’t think she fully left the grounds after Dumbledore banned her, especially if she was something as small as a bug. Which means all of us need to be aware of what we say and where we say it.”

“Question.” Neville piped up with a hand raised. “Why now?”

Hermione picked up the jar and tested the lid. She cast an Unbreakable charm on it and dropped it to the floor. It landed with a resounding thud and rolled in a semi-circle before she picked it up. “Because I refused to play into her little game in my interview with her. And I insulted her by calling her an insect, right after I caught her trying to use Legilimens on me. It freaked her out and she practically flew out of the greenhouse. I hadn’t realized how close I was to hitting the nail on the head. So now she’s coming at me by attacking everyone I’m close to. She knows that plenty of parents won’t like the inter-house relationships she’s speculating at and that all your parents will be owling for clarification, wanting you to break up and be miserable to in effect, make me feel miserable.”

“What a bitch.” Blaise seethed, seeing his friends shift uncomfortably at how well their emotions had been played upon. “We have to take her down.”

“And where does the ginger beast come into this?” Draco pointed to said ginger beast. He simply couldn’t get over how much the damn thing look like a Weasley.

“Crookshanks helped sniff out that Scabbers was actually Peter Pettigrew.” Harry answered, catching onto Hermione’s plan. Hermione shot him a finger gun.

“Once we flush her out, make her nice and comfortable,” she wrapped her fingernails alongside the glass of the jar, “We’ll get her to retract her story-in fact all of them-and have her write a letter of apology to everyone she’s wronged.”

“Are you going to Imperio her?” Pansy asked, just slightly taken back by the idea of the former Gryffindor Golden Girl using an Unforgiveable.

“I won’t need to.” Hermione replied with predatory delight.

“So…what’s this about a map then?” Daphne asked, having patiently waited for an opening. All eyes were on the brunette then.

“Ok, so there’s this…map thing, that’s been charmed.” Hermione hesitantly explained, tapping the folded parchment on her work table. “This is the thing that none of you can speak about out of this room-ever. It shows where people are.” She watched their faces as they contemplated just what that entailed. “With it, I can pinpoint her location if she’s still lurking inside, hence why I did the reveal spell before this conversation.”

Neville seemed to understand completely, automatically, knowing the shenanigans that Harry and Hermione had gotten into in their first years together. A map made sense, especially one that revealed people’s location. “Brilliant Hermione.” He said with a clap. “Heck, we should’ve made one long ago! That would’ve come in handy in first year!”

She snapped her head over to him, confused for just a split second before realizing he was playing at the idea of Her being the one to make the map and for this purpose. She nodded along. “Thank you.” She said, meaning it wholeheartedly. The others seem to take it in, believing her fully capable of the complicated magic the map possessed. Oh if only they really knew.

“So why did you have it in Defense class?” Pansy turned to Draco. 

“I was keeping an eye out.” He quickly replied. “We thought we were being followed.”

“You’re damn lucky you did whatever you did to it before Moody snatched it up.” Blaise remarked. “Did you find anything out that day?”

“Yeah, we found out some stuff.” Theo chimed in with a sour tone. “It’s nothing you guys have to worry about right now though. But if you see any of us with that, you’ll know why. Just mum’s the word on it.”

“You know us, Slytherins can keep a secret.” Pansy confirmed with pride. “Right Daph?”

The blonde groaned under the scrutiny. “Ugh for Salazar’s sake, yes I can keep a bloody damn secret!” she exclaimed with a toss of her hands. “Let’s just catch this bitch and put this whole chapter behind us.” She then marched up to Hermione and stared the girl down, thinking that the few inches she had might make her look more intimidating. “You better remember who you’re doing this for, whose reputations are at risk.” She hissed.

Short in stature but large in personality, Hermione barely lifted her chin up to give Daphne the slowest and bitchiest blink in history. “Frankly, I don’t give a fresh Thestral shite about your reputation, you’re not my friend. But for the other Slytherins and Gryffindors present, I would set myself on fire and charge through the Forbidden Forest if it meant their safety. Why? Because I’m THAT kind of friend.”

A chill settled over the room.

“If I would do that for friend, then you don’t want to know what I’d do to someone I consider my enemy. You might want to rethink your perspective and decide where you stand when you’re in the same room as me.”

Blaise hooted with a barely concealed hand over his mouth. Even though he’d barely had five minutes alone with the witch, she not only thought of him as her friend but one she’d burn a forest down for-even if it was just metaphorical. 

Theo let out a “Hell yeah!” and raised his hand for a high five to meet with Hermione. She held her hand up without breaking eye contact with Daphne, still seething from being dressed down in front of so many housemates.

“That’s my girl.” Draco beamed with pride, crossing his arms and nudging Potter. “She gave a better speech than you did.”

“Course she did.” Harry replied dryly. “She always does.”

“You’re all tossers.” Daphne sneered, finally breaking eye contact and whirling away from the intimidating Chimera. She knew she was sorely outnumbered and needed to regain her allies. Apparently the only way to do that was to fall in line with the trend and play nice. “None of you can take a joke.” She turned back to Hermione. “Course you’re doing it for them, but don’t forget they’re my friends too. So for right now, that makes us partners.”

Swallowing her pride and the bile rising in her throat, she steeled herself and offered her hand. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend, isn’t that how the proverb goes?”

“First recorded in 1884 by Gabriel Manigault in his Political Creed. He described it as ‘natural feeling’. Though I believe the phrase is far older than that.” Hermione sprouted off, unable to contain herself in the vast knowledge stored within her memory. “I’ll have you know I take someone’s word as their bond. I’d like to believe that the same holds true for you. Don’t offer your hand if you don’t mean it.”

Daphne nearly pulled back, her bluff being called out so cleverly, but if she did she’d be sunk. It took everything she had to refrain from raising her hand and slapping the sass right out of the brunette, but she put on her best convincing smile and inched her hand closer.

‘Just shake the damn thing and quit making me look like a fool.’ She mentally hissed.

Hermione clasped the offered hand, silky soft from expensive lotion, perfectly manicured nails that never had been nibbled on in a fit of nervousness, a silver band glinting off her right ring finger. Hands like a princess, touching the likes of hers, tanned and slightly calloused, nails only painted and prettied just days before but otherwise would’ve been uneven with a line of dirt underneath. Hands like a peasant. But hands that Draco held, caressed and kissed without hesitation or hidden disgust, unlike what she saw in the bright blue eyes of blonde before her.

She wasn’t fooled, but she would play along. “Thank you Daphne. I’d rather have you as an ally. Do refrain from calling me a Mudblood every time you get your knickers in a twist though, makes believing you a whole lot easier.”

Despite herself, the blonde witch clenched her hand, tightening the hold with a flash of anger in her eyes. It was only a second, composing herself fairly quickly afterwards, but it was enough for Hermione to sense her insincerity. Allies weren’t made overnight, she told herself. Everything happened in due time, even a real alliance with Daphne Greengrass and not this façade she was putting on her the sake of her friends.  
……………………………..

The next few days were tense, awkward, and unnerving what with Professor Snape in even more of a dour mood than ever thought possible, now being plagued from owled letters by overbearing, overprotective parents demanding answers to Skeeter’s claims and him being shadowed by a Ministry official to assure the safety of his students and observe for any influences of Amortentia or other self-preservation inhibiting potions.

Every partnered pair mentioned in her article was under scrutiny, leaving all students to behave stiffly and robotic whenever they entered class. Gone were pleasantries, jokes, and conversations of any sort other than the subject matter or mention of Quidditch. No one spoke of Hogsmeade, weekend plans, or even summer vacation. No one sat close enough to accidentally touch; elbow or thigh or even the brush of a hand. 

It was highly uncomfortable and didn’t nurture a creative spark in the student body, but by twisted irony the overall grade of the class improved. By removing any potential for distractions with military-like strictness and supervision the fourth year potions class made their professor proud with achieved grade points and rewarded house points, but their thirst for knowledge had waned, not even Hermione could carry the torch for burning questions and exemplary answers delivered with her usual panache. They were all under a microscope and shriveling under pressure. But it satisfied the uptight, sniffing-with-disdain official with their clipboard and curled lip. Apparently enjoying the curriculum was not part of the requirements for learning it. 

Headmaster Dumbledore addressed the student body in an announcement over breakfast Monday morning, assuring the worried younger year students as well as the older students who merely took the allegations with giggling gossipy delight as it provided some sense of entertainment besides the antics of the Draco + Hermione romance Skeeter had earlier graced the Prophet with or the trials of the Tri-Wizard tournament. The entire week was one to take note of as every class and professor was under an inspection.  
Contention among the professors was palpable, tension in the air over meal times and agitating the moods of scholars, affecting some in their teaching techniques. Professor Moody was one such victim of the atmosphere, becoming even more snappish and terse but following through in the curriculum provided. During one outdoor class however, when the class was lined up in two parallel rows to face off in the throwing and blocking of an elemental spell with its cancelling counterpart, purposely pitting rival Gryffindors against Slytherins he noticed a distinct change in the behavior of said former enemies.

Even though Harry Potter might be dining with the Slytherins it didn’t mean all Slytherins were comfortable with him being there-which Moody/Crouch counted on-and fully expected house loyalty to prevail when he was set against with a rival student. He was disappointed when up against Malfoy; the boys were far more cordial than they had been a month previous. And he knew why. 

‘That blasted Chimera Granger girl and her strange hold on those boys!’ he gritted his teeth. He needed Potter to get strong enough to survive the last trial-at least long enough to serve his purpose-and he wasn’t going to do that by playing nice with his supposed nemesis!

But he wasn’t the only one glowering with displeasure at the Slytherins, he noted with a gleam in the borrowed eye of Alastor Moody…a certain ginger-haired Gryffindor with a venomous cerulean gaze.

He came up to Ron Weasley, clapping a thick hand on his shoulder and leaned in. As the focus of the majority of students were on each other in their pair offs, he whispered by the boy’s ear. “Knock that princess off her pedestal Weasley.”

Ron chuckled. “Sure thing professor.”  
...........................

The class had become a small army, one side pitted against the other, wands drawn, spells cast, elements being thrown right along with the insults. It was fast becoming an all-out battle with the line drawn between who was friend and who was foe.

Ron had cast the first stone-literally-hidden in a conjured ball of summoned dirt and shellacked with water to create a slick muddy surface that he blasted out of turn right at Hermione, coating her not only in mud, but also striking her with the stone.

That was all it took and suddenly Harry and Draco were hurling their own elements: lightning and fire, in return. Vincent and Gregory were right at Ron’s sides, one conjuring water to cancel out Draco’s fire and the other repelling the lightning with a stone wall. As those four squared off, Ron ducked off to the side and aimed his wand at Hermione who was cradling her temple and unawares.

Ginny jumped in front of her, eyes blazing as she raised a shield against her brother’s next attack, with Luna darting around her to shoot a counter-attack. The very selfless act then spurred others into action and before anyone realized it, there was a clear distinct dissection. It also became a battle of the sexes as the girls had come to Hermione’s aid; Pansy, Tracey, Millicent, and a hesitant Daphne who hung back until it became clear that her inaction would be taken for betrayal as Theo, Blaise, and Neville jumped alongside Harry and Draco against the forming line with Dean, Seamus and Ernie. Lavender slid right up next to Ron with Parvati following suit, much to Padma’s dismay as she stuck by Hermione’s side. She would rather not have to fight against her own twin sister but it would appear the Gryffindor Patil was too much of a follower to think for herself.

Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws we last to enter the fray, mainly sticking to their friendships and trying to act as a policing peacekeeping force to no avail, but it was clear to Theo that Michael was still sore at their upended friendship as he stood by the likes of Seamus and aimed his wand at him. Theo kept having to tell himself over and over, Michael doesn’t know why…but it did nothing to ease the burn in his chest as the first boy he’d ever kissed was clearly gunning for him merely due to a misunderstanding.

“Michael stop!” he screamed over the din. “We used to be friends!”

“Until suddenly we weren’t!” Michael screamed back, flinging an impressive blue flame his way.

“That’s on my father, not me!” Theo pleaded, blocking the spell but only just barely.

Draco suddenly realized what the argument was about, momentarily letting himself become distracted as the puzzle piece slide into place. It was just the opening needed for a barrage of stones to coming his way, pelting him in the face and the arm he raised up to block. Seeing Draco hit the ground spurred Daphne to leave the cluster by Hermione’s side and dash over to his as Neville stepped up to bat away the incoming stones with a wall of thick vines and flat leaves that took the impact.

Lavender giggled in glee at standing beside Ron as they hurled hex after hex in Hermione’s direction, watching as she deftly deflected and dodged, but falling short on stopping everything, evident by the new scrape on her cheek and scorch mark on her shirt. Her chosen comrades each hurled their own spell, mainly in defense except for Ginny Weasley who took point and screamed her bloody lungs raw with insults and threats at her dim-witted brother as she rained hail upon them. She was certainly proving herself as a third year that had been bumped up to the fourth year DADA class, along with Luna who released a fog to obscure visual attacks.

All the while Moody cheered his class on as if this had been part of the lesson all along, encouraging both sides when he saw an opening and reminding them to use only elemental spells-after all, we don’t anyone getting killed now do we?-and chortling amongst the chaos. It was the dodgeball game all over again, except there was nowhere to hide, and the teams had chosen themselves. 

Using the fog to her advantage, Hermione crouched low, hand to the ground, her body tense and feline in in posture as she felt the different magical signatures strumming through the air overhead like different scents. She closed her eyes and concentrated, she knew Ron’s magical signature after being in constant proximity of it for the past three years. He had moved position, the coward, he was right behind Lavender! Her eyes shot open as she bolted upright and straight ahead, headlong through the thinning fog and past bolts of lightning and streams of fire, leaping over churning chunks of earth and pebbles dotting the immediate vicinity.

She couldn’t explain the strange sensation coursing through her, like she was a predator on the hunt, but she knew where her prey was and she wasn’t going to let anything get in her way. Something about him pulled at a deeper, darker place within herself and threw all rationale out of the window. It was primal now, fight or flight, do or die. He was a cowardly lion hiding among the pride, and she was something more, something greater and stronger and powerful, mighty and dignified…like a mythical beast.

The fog cleared with a wind counter spell and her cover was blown away with it, but she’d gained enough ground and launched herself at Ron, but in the last second, Lavender had stepped in and taken the brunt of their collision. The sudden sight of Hermione flying down upon Lavender Brown was enough to make most heads turn no matter what side they were on as the battle had become an engaging one-on-one.

Daphne had brought Draco up to his feet; supporting him as he wavered from being pelted, mouth agape as he watched his girlfriend sweep the feet out from under the blonde witch in an attempt to get to the ginger git that had backpedaled from the fray. But Lavender wasn’t going to let Hermione get away with fancy footwork and touch her wizard. Taking a page straight out the Catfight Handbook, she threw a handful of dirt at Hermione’s face and then leapt, grabbing a fistful of that wild hair.

Releasing a shriek that pierced eardrums, Hermione grabbed fistfuls of blonde hair and pulled the witch towards herself, ramming a knee right into her gut. Lavender’s grip loosened as she fell to her knees, but she grabbed the brunette’s legs as Hermione tried advancing in Ron’s direction, fueled by a bloodlust she couldn’t quell as she hit the ground. Urged on by her redheaded boyfriend, Lavender jumped on top of Hermione and a rolling blur ensued as the girls became indistinguishable. 

Hoots and hollers followed with chants from the previous fighting sides as the witch-on-witch fight became the sole focus of the class and their professor. Shrieks and screams, insults and injuries were inflicted as clothes tore and strands of hair flew. It was brutal and nasty, mugglish in every sense, enlightening for purebloods that’d never seen an actual catfight in their sheltered lives and entertaining for the half-blood and muggleborn alike who had. Even though Lavender had just a couple inches in height she was certainly no trained fighter, just relying on instinct to try to gain the upper hand against her quarry. But Hermione was proving to be a slippery snake to get a grip on as she kicked towards Ron-who had stupidly approached the writhing witches-and broke the hold Lavender had exhausted herself by exerting onto her.

She was just about to land a satisfying blow to his face when she felt her body tense up, limbs lock in position, and then everything tilted sharply as she collided with the ground, pain jarring along her spine and skull with the shrill voice of Professor McGonagall screaming with an equally embittered Professor Moody. Her last thought was unladylike in every sense of the word with her mahogany gaze burning holes into the back of his head as he argued with the Gryffindor matriarch before darkness claimed her.  
…………………….

Detention. For the entire Fourth Year student body, regardless of house and participation in the fight, and thirty points was deducted from each as well. It was to be a lesson to discourage any further fighting, upsetting plenty that were technically not at fault and had tried to mitigate the tension, earning plenty of dirty looks to follow and even more brewing under the surface.

McGonagall had to go so far as to erect a temporary wall in the boy’s dorm to separate Harry and Neville from Ron, Seamus, and Dean to prevent any late night brawling.  
Madam Pomfrey was spitting nails at the sight of Hermione Granger, once again in her hospital wing, once again battered, and once again proclaiming herself the victim to deaf ears. Eventually Hermione realized that the healer had developed a sense of case-blindness, suspecting her of being a hypochondriac or having Munchausen's syndrome, whichever one it was, right now she couldn’t recall as she wiped the mud, blood, and tears away from her face. This was Ron’s doing, his constant attacks following a systematic pattern that was twisting the school nurse’s perception of her.

She had to hand it to the tosser, he may not be much of a wizard when it comes to scholarly endeavors but he sure knew how to plan an attack. He moved like the fight was on a chessboard, backing up a space to let Lavender take over, queen protecting king style. Her blood chilled at the thought, who would he be willing to sacrifice in order to walk away from the fight? What was the actual goal here? It had been blitzed from the get-go, causing a frenzy among the class in order to draw her out…just for what?  
………………………….


	54. Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skeeter’s article brings backlash and tension throughout the school, a nightmare, and a decision on Draco’s burdened heart.
> 
> But a miscalculation makes Snape have to step in to correct things.
> 
> "Fucking teenagers...." ~ Snape

It might come as a shock to some, the fact that Hermione Granger didn’t own a chessboard-well, one that she brought to school anyways-and had to hunt one down. Luckily, she found one in the Slytherin common room and took it to the Slytherin conference room right after dinner, being “grounded” from her lab for the evening by Snape for engaging in the fight. Since the room was so close to her own she was sitting there alone when Draco finally found her, having spent time with his godfather going over the details of the fight. Obviously, Snape was going to have to twist this little event in his next letter to Lucius. Tonight. The potions mater was not thrilled at having this little assignment thrust upon him but it had to be done.

At first, he walked right on by, but stopped and backed up, doing a double take to make sure he wasn’t just imagining it. But there she was, sitting at that elongated table, chessboard set in front of her, pieces arranged in a queer formation, bringing the white queen across to meet the black queen head-on, the black king one space behind.   
He realized then what she was doing.

The words on his father’s letter swirled in his head, mingling with the words he overheard as the Weasel mutter was smoking himself senseless. Was there a connection? How would there even be one? His father would never trust Weaselbee with his discarded laundry let alone a task of such importance! Or would he? Was he a secret in the plot? No, that was highly unlikely…

He hadn’t realized the breath he let out had caught her attention, and her gaze was fixed on him as if had been for a spanse of time, waiting for his acknowledgment. He saw her lean her head in her hand, opposite the wound on her temple, and prop the elbow upon the table surface. “He thinks like a chess master.” She said flatly. “It’s a surprising strength he has; I nearly forgot how proficient he was in that fight in first year…”

He knew the event she spoke of, in one of their conversations where she’d opened up about some of things she and her duo had done. He’d been shocked at just the number of rules she’d willingly broken, but in the name of protecting others-her fallback answer every time-he had to applaud her brazenness. No wonder she’d been sorted into Gryffindor back then! She not only had the brains of a Ravenclaw and the cunning ambition of a Slytherin, but she had the fortitude of Gryffindor and the endearing love for friendship to be a Hufflepuff.

She truly could’ve been placed in any house, and while fitting into the mold of the usual typical student, she still would’ve been an extraordinary outcast surpassing them all. No one house could claim her; she was an anomaly among them all.

“I need to think like a chess master.” She went on, looking at the board. “I need to see things like he does, black and white, nothing else. To him, there is only enemy and ally.”  
He swallowed the hard knot in his throat. He was going to have to tell her what he overheard in the courtyard…from both Ron and Luna.

“Hermione…I overheard something…and at the time, I didn’t know what to do with the information, but after today, I think it’s more prudent than ever that I be forthwith from now on, with everything. But there’s two things you should know, and they may or may not be connected.”

“Ok.” She said softly, bracing herself for more bad news.

He came in and closed the door behind him, taking a seat right beside her and grasping her right hand. “I was wearing my invisi-cloak, out in the courtyard, just trying to clear my head and I saw Weasley with Crabbe & Goyle. They were smoking some goblingrass and just talking when it shifted into something else, and Weasley mentioned ‘taking out the king through the queen’ and referred to ‘knights’ and told the guys to sharpen their dueling skills. I think today they were trying to get to me through you.”

A curious expression crossed her face; her eyes darted to the chessboard and the formation she set up, recreating the earlier duel. She had used the two black knights to represent Crabbe & Goyle, going against the two white knights and rooks to represent Draco, Harry, Theo and Blaise. With the black king were the two bishops to represent Parvati and Michael, king and queen being Ron and Lav. Being the white queen, she had plucked up the pawns to stand in as Pansy, Tracey, Millicent, Padma, Daphne, Ginny and Luna-nearly the whole set.

She hadn’t considered anyone for the role of white king, thinking herself as the main target since she had been targeted so openly, but it made sense, that she could’ve been only attacked as a way to get back at Draco.

“And what’s the other?”

He exhaled that breath slowly; convincing her that Luna was a Seer was one thing, convincing her of the vision would be something else. But, this wasn’t information he should keep to himself anymore. He’d already driven himself half mad making a mental list of everyone he knew with blue eyes and how many times they came into contact with something silver on a daily basis. It was like trying to count the stars on a clear night.

“What I need first, is for you keep an open mind, and to know that this comes from a friend-one of your lovely little pawns over there-” He motioned to the chessboard, and continued. “And she said you need to be aware…of something silver and a set of blue eyes.”

For a solid moment, she neither blinked nor moved. He held his breath and prayed to Merlin that she’d just believe him and somehow figure out exactly what Luna was referring to without a second’s hesitation.

“You do recall I dropped Divination, right?” she asked. He didn’t like the tone in which her words were being delivered with; he could tell it was a not-so-subtle use of sarcasm that was only going to drip further into condensation. 

“Hermione please, I told her with just as much skepticism but she was right when she said I needed to be where I was, because just afterwards was when Weasel and the dimwits came up and I overheard their conversation.”

“You do realize that silver could mean any number of things: the color, the element, a fancy way of saying grey, or even something metallic that only looks like silver but could be steal-like a knife blade. And blue eyes? Really? The entire Weasley family has blue eyes but do you really think any of them other than Ron mean me any harm?”

“I know! Ok, I know. I’ve been boiling my brain over it for the past few days. I nearly jumped over the table in Herbology when you were trimming the Mandrake leaves. I can’t keep this to myself or I’ll go completely nutters.”

He brought his other hand to his forehead, as if to be able to push unwanted thoughts to the wayside. “Not like I haven’t had my own dilemma in trying to figure out how to go about it, but with this…” he let his breath out in exasperation. “I never knew how hard it was to be the good guy…”

He raked his fingers through his hair. 

A stifled chuckle tickled the air around him.

He looked over to see an adorable brunette with a hand folded over her mouth in a poor attempt to have a sense of decorum at his expense. He would’ve normally made a snarky comeback to defend his previous statement, but the twinkle in her eye and dimples digging into her cheeks froze his tongue in place and erased the thought he had prepared. As long as she smiled like that, she could laugh at him all she wanted.

“Draco Malfoy…the boy who thinks being good is hard…” she teased. Then she leaned in, pressing a finger to his tie and walking her fingers along it. He felt his entire body go rigid, his very soul tingling with each touch. “For some of us, it just comes naturally.”

He let out a nervous laugh. 

“But being good has its merits,” she continued, flattening her hand on the silken strand of green and silver. “After all, the stories are written about the hero. Hercules, King Arthur, Prince Charming…you know, in the end, they get the girl.”

“D-do they now?” he inquired, trying to keep his voice steady. Kinda hard when her hand was delicately warming the area where his heart was pulsating beneath her fingertips. He was vaguely aware of those characters in muggle literature.

“It’s just one of the perks.” She added with a nonchalant shrug, pulling her hand away. He didn’t want to lose the contact so he immediately reached for her hand, just slightly too slow to keep it pressed to him but still caught it, interlacing his fingers with hers. 

“Just one?” he asked, that sly smile creeping up along with the flush to his pale skin. 

“Some would say…it’s the best one.” She said with just a hint of coyness in her eye. It made his breath hitch for a second. Who knew she could flirt in such a devious yet innocent way?

“Her-” He coughed, feeling his voice had risen in pitch for a second. “Hermione, it’s been pointed out that I haven’t exactly been the gentleman I was raised to be, and I apologize. I keep falling back into that old Malfoy the Prat way when I want something…and forgiving as you are, you deserve better.”

“Oh?” she intoned, surprised by the apology but not for the obvious truth he pointed out.

“I really do want to take you to Hogsmeade next weekend. A proper date, just you and me. And I should’ve asked you, not ordered you.”

She grinned, delighted and intrigued by this humble version of Draco before her. He was certainly a sight to behold, even while contrite. “Whom do I have to thank for finally getting through to you?” she giggled, squeezing his hand just a bit. 

“Practically everyone, really.” He answered with a mirthless chuckle. He just felt lucky none of it had gotten back to his mother or he’d been knocked on his ass the moment he entered Dumbledore’s office. “And I shouldn’t take your forgiveness for granted. Merlin knows you’ve given me more chances than I deserve.”

“I’d love to go with you.” She responded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with a demure head dip. Not that Hogsmeade was anything new, but the fact that it was an actual date and not just a hanging out with friends kind of day made it all the more exciting and special. A date. With her boyfriend. With Draco Malfoy.

Even though he convinced himself that there was no chance she’d actually refuse, it still sent a thrill through him to hear her say it. And how she said it. And how she looked as she said it. And how it felt with it just being the two of them together rather than in front of their best mates with their silent judgmental looks. This was how it was supposed to be, just the two of them. It’s how he should’ve asked in the first place, but no, he had to be a little show-off (and why? It wasn’t like he had anything to prove, she was already his girlfriend) and come off all pretentious and cocky. It was such a Lucius way of speaking. To order and not accept questioning. Another habit he’d have to break himself of.   
“Thank you.” He breathed out in relief, his gratitude stemming from far deeper than just her accepting his inquiry. He lifted her hand and removed his interlaced fingers only to curl them underneath her palm and bring her knuckles to his lips. He could kiss her hand every day for the rest of his life and feel honored. 

“See what you get when you’re nice about it?” her voice hummed in his ears. All he could was nod and try not to break into the world’s biggest grinning idiot.

He was certainly beginning to see it. Maybe this is exactly what it was like for Pansy with Neville, an honest to Merlin gentleman who’d never even raise his voice to her, let alone order her to dress nice and attend Hogsmeade with her on his arm. She wasn’t made just for showing off-even though she deserved to be showed off proudly-honoring him with her presence, not the other way around. A nice guy would never have made her cry or feel undeserving of her magic or her place in this school. A nice guy would’ve held the door open for her and taken her books. A nice guy would be glad to reach for an object on a high shelf and not tease her for her diminutive height.

Nice guys were rewarded with smiling beauties batting their lashes his way, receiving accolades from proud professors and his peers, actually respected and not just feared. Being nice brought this strange warmth into his chest that heated him up better than a steaming mug of cocoa and a blanket enchanted with a heat charm. He wanted to feel like this all the time. It was similar and yet so different from the love he received from his mother. How odd. Wasn’t love an all-encompassing feeling that was equal in measure? For surely he loved his parents-despite the obvious difference of opinion he currently had with his father-and surely he loved Quidditch and thunderstorms and apple tarts drizzled with caramel…but with Hermione…it felt…stronger.

I burn. I pine. I perish….

There’s a difference between like and love. I like my Nimbus 2001. I like caramel apple tarts. I like watching Ron Weasley turn different shades of purple when he’s absolutely raging. But what do I love? Do I love her? Truly and unequivocally? Have I already not defied my father’s desires and stood against half the Slytherin house in order to defend her? Could there be a witch here strong enough to turn my head away from hers? 

Draco, momentarily distracted by his own musings, had let his eyes wander, but in a moment of clarity his gaze returned to her own and he melted at the sight of those bright apple-cider irises meeting his own storm clouded orbs. 

Not a damn one.

He broke into that ridiculous grin he’d been refraining from, watching how her eyes lit up in response. Flecks of gold dazzled in the whiskey mix, enchanting and all the more alluring than ever. She was as gold as the sun with her tan skin and earthy hair and mahogany eyes, to offset how he was as silver as the moon with milky pale skin and frosty blond hair and grey eyes. 

I most definitely love her.

“I wish I had asked you sooner.” He confessed, almost breathless.

I wish I had asked you to Yule Ball.

I wish I had asked you to be my Valentine.

I wish I had asked you for just a second of your time before I made you hate me.

“Oh I doubt it would’ve gone over as well as this.” She replied, gathering up the loose chess pieces and plunking them into the storage box. “Maybe if you had managed to be this charming last year we would’ve gotten on…” she shrugged as she gathered up the pieces from the board. “But it still would’ve been a struggle to get Harry and Ron to accept it.”

“I highly doubt you would’ve ever been able to convince Weasley that I wasn’t plotting something untoward in regards to you.” He scoffed, just the mere mention of the ginger weasel set his hackles up. “Potter’s not bad, but it still took time.”

She rose to her feet and put the board and the game piece box on the counter of the shelf, tucking them away neatly. “Everything worthwhile does.” She said softly, more to herself than to him although he heard it in the quiet room. 

“Do you think I’m worthwhile?” he whispered, daring not to place any hint of hope in his voice, therefore sucking away the volume in which he normally would’ve had the courage to ask that question with.

“You thought I was.” Was her answer.

Brilliant as always Granger.

He walked her just the few feet distance from the little library towards her room, watching as she unwarded it with an easy flick and stood in the doorway as she discarded her satchel and robe and kicked off her Mary Janes with exhaustion evident in her posture. When she turned her head back his way she smiled, enjoying the propriety he adhered to by waiting for permission to enter her room rather than just saunter in.

He refrained when she motioned for him to enter, so she came to him and in response he pulled her into a hug and held her tight, flush against him and inhaled the peace that came with the scent of her shampoo and general scent. She was like a talisman to ward off the encroaching darkness, as long as he was with her he felt at ease. His problems seemed so far away.

“If you keep a hold of me any longer I’m going to have to start charging you for my time.” She joked, her voice slightly muffled in the folds of his robe.

“Gladly.” He replied without hesitation. “I’ll match whatever price you can throw at me.”

“Of course you would.” She scoffed, playfully slapping his chest. “But honestly, it’s time for bed, so business hours are closed now.”

“Ahhh.” He whined, reluctantly letting her go. 

“Goodnight Draco.” She reprimanded firmly, pressing a hand to his chest to get him backpedaling away. “Hugs later. All day at Hogsmeade if you want, but I’m knackered and we still have a day’s worth of detention coming up.”   
…………………………

Draco expected pleasant dreams to follow after that flirtatious exchange with her, recalling the warmth of her person as he had hugged her in the hallway, the little finger-walk of her hand along his chest, and the dazzling gleam in her eye when they spoke so open and candidly with each other. Finally realizing that everyone was right, that his heart beat only for her, and knew now that he had to make his decision known. He expected peace in his mind to match the peace in his heart-finally-but he was sadly mistaken.

He writhed on his bed, body twisted in sheets, panting and coated in a sheen of sweat as the scene played out before his dreaming eyes.

Where he stood he didn’t know, the surrounding environment was dark and indistinguishable but it felt like an opening among a forest. Mist crept in along his ankles and swirled into little funnels no higher than his waistline, the cool breeze kissing the back of his neck and trickling down his spine as he strained his senses to get his bearings. It wasn’t like him to be in a place like this, so he knew him being here meant something was wrong.

His intuition was rewarded with an unfortunate scream, clearly feminine and in anguish, with heavy gasps and a grunt that led to a solid thump. He whirled around, met with the stony gaze of his father, white hair whisping about in the shallow wind.

“Father!” he exclaimed in surprise. 

He was met with a stoic sneer, an immobile figure with no sign of paternal pride. “You’ve disappointed me yet again, boy.” His oily voice cut through the eerie atmosphere.

“W-what? What did I do?” he asked, nervous for infractions real or imagined.

“Oh what haven’t you done?” Lucius snapped with icy calm, producing the first leather bound sketchbook Draco distinctly remembered having been burnt, page by page. “You still haven’t learned…”

When he threw the book to the ground a sizeable pyre erupted upwards and engulfed the book whole, singeing pages and roasting the leather covering, releasing that terrible burnt smell with black smoke aggravating his nostrils. He couldn’t understand why this memory was coming back, distorted as it was. He’d been careful about not letting his current sketchbook be discovered, and he had said everything he needed to in order to make his father believe anything but the truth.

But all was not as it seemed here.

Lucius bent down, grabbing at something lying at his feet, and Draco’s stomach churned at the sight of familiar chestnut hair. And ever so slowly, a face twisted in agony followed the hair and a school uniform-clad body followed the face as she was pulled to her feet, one hand wrapped firmly in her hair and tilting her head back as his father glowered at him.

“This Mudblood bitch…” he spat, too disgusted to say anything further. His eyes only pierced in Draco’s direction, years of disappointment and fury pulling at his heartstrings. “You would choose her over me? Your own father? I gave you life!” he roared, “And this is how you repay me?”

Draco shook his head.

“Don’t you lie to me boy.” Lucius snarled, gripping Hermione’s hair harder, eliciting another cry from her. “You fancy this disgusting thief of magic so much that you’d give everything up for her? Don’t you?”

His blood chilled. How did Lucius know that? He hadn’t said anything to anyone!

“Now you choose.”

Oh Merlin, no. Not like this.

But Lucius knew better, his son was weak. Always had been. He knew the boy would quiver and cry, beg and blubber and that was not what Malfoy men did. He produced a knife and threw it at Draco’s feet. “Pick it up boy.” he growled in a tone that did not leave room for disobedience. 

Draco wearily picked up the knife, fingers shaking as it clasped around the hilt. Whatever came next, he didn’t want to be a part of, but knew there was no escape.

“Choose Draco.” Lucius ordered viciously. “Your plaything or your family.”

Against his will, he felt his body pulled forward, his steps jerky and unnatural, robotic as if he were fighting the Imperio and losing. The knife in his right hand pointed, blade outwards, his hand clenched tightly around it and in the way that he somehow knew a professional would hold it, not a scared teenager. This was certainly the Impervious Curse, being controlled by someone who knew how to kill. 

“F-father…no…” he stuttered, trying to pull back.

“Do not disappoint me Draco.”

Try as he might, he couldn’t stop his body. His arm reared back, knife hungry for blood. He stilled his arm, eyes beseeching his father who gave nothing but contempt in return. His eyes darted to Hermione, struggling against the iron grip, unable to tear herself away. She didn’t beg, she didn’t shed tears, and she certainly didn’t stand frozen although fear was evident across her face. 

Draco knew what Lucius wanted from him. But he’d be damned if he gave in so easily. He nodded to his father, conceding defeat of the inevitable, exerting what control he had into the direction he wanted. He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.” He whispered.

Apologizing to her.

Apologizing to him.

Apologizing to his mother.

He surged forward with the blade, aiming just slightly more to the right, but it was exactly as Lucius predicted. 

A splash of crimson coated his hand as a guttural cry emitted not just from him, but whom the knife was imbedded in.

“No!” Draco screamed, eyes wide in horror at what he’d done. “No no no!”

“NOOOOOOOO!” He shrieked, flinging himself upright, blanket flying off to the side, startling Blaise and Theo into instant awareness despite their deep slumber. Both roommates jumped up in alarm and grabbed for their wands as Draco stumbled and flung himself across the room towards their door. One quick thought and wand flick and he was muted with a Silencio as he ripped the door open and darted down the hallway before either of them could grab a hold.

They followed, not entirely surprised he ended up at Hermione’s door, banging on it to no avail since he’d been silenced, but damned if he wasn’t trying. Once he realized they were at his side he grabbed Theo and slammed him against the door, his intention clear.

“Okay, back up!” Blaise ordered, gripping onto Draco’s shoulder. Theo needed room to breathe if he was going to knock on the door. A few taps and moments later it opened, a bewildered and wand-ready Hermione standing before them, the picture of blissful sleep interrupted but before she could question the trio Draco freed himself from Blaise and bum-rushed her, capturing her in his arms and squeezing tight.

“He had a nightmare.” Theo clarified. “And Blaise silenced him so we wouldn’t wake the whole dorm. Bad enough everyone has detention because of us, like they need another reason to stay pissed.”

Hermione nodded in acknowledgement, the only movement she could do being trapped in such a tight hug. She felt the tremor radiating off his body along with the jerks of silent sobbing. He was absolutely terrified and that itself was reason for concern.

“I’m gonna hit up a Prefect for some vials of Dreamless Sleep, they’re usually in these parts at this time.” Blaise announced, feeling uncomfortable at the sight of his friend in such distress. “One for everybody I presume?”

Clearly wide awake and alarmed, it’d be nigh on impossible to fall asleep naturally so Theo and Hermione nodded back to confirm. They shuffled into the bedroom after he left, Theo literally having to guide Draco’s body towards the bed for both him and Hermione to sit because he refused to let go of her. After situating herself comfortably and getting Draco to shift his position a little, she was ready for explanations.

“Sure, we’ve all had our fair of a nightmare or two but I’ve never seen him like this. I don’t know if we should unsilence him yet.” He said, leaning against her desk.

“We need to in order to find out why he charged all the way to my room and won’t relinquish me.” she pointed out, strumming her fingers through his soft hair as he nested himself against her chest, ear pressed for a heartbeat to assure himself she was alive. “Obviously, something must’ve happened to Me, and he needing reassuring that I’m alright. I think the fight from earlier today might’ve been the catalyst.”

“Finite Incantatem.” Theo sighed.

The quiet air was awakened with the sobs and mewlings of the blonde wizard, his breath short and hitched, with occasional wet sniffs to hold himself back from further outbursts. Theo produced a handkerchief and handed it to Hermione, who was able to drop it onto his face and her shoulder with how he was wrapped around her and she was using her right arm to support herself from falling over.

Quietly, he took the offered cloth and wiped his face but continued to keep himself buried in her bosom. “Thank you.” He whispered hoarsely. It was all they got out of him in the time Blaise was gone, having returned with a handful of vials of the milky looking potion.

“Excellent timing, that’s all it was.” He explained, for he hadn’t been gone long. “Prefect rounds right on schedule, Snape just happened to already be awake after hitting the loo, and had some in stock. He added something special to this one,” he said, indicating the single vial in his left hand, separate from the three in his right. “For Draco.”

Theo took the specialized vial and placed it on Hermione’s desk. “I think we’re going to need a moment before we dose him.”

Blaise stifled a yawn. “Well you three can have your merry little tea party, but I’m going to back to bed. So, here’s for the two of you. Cheerio.” He replied with a little dip of his head, placing the two regular vials on the seat of her chair, so as not to confuse them with the other. Whatever he added hadn’t changed the color of the potion and made it easy to distinguish.

“Night mate.” Theo waved him off, settling his rump against the edge of her desk. “Shall I go as well?”

“Please.” Came the muffled voice of their concerned party, with Hermione shooting him a sympathetic look. It might be the only way to get Draco to talk about his nightmarish vision. 

Theo expelled a breath. “Sure thing.” He answered with a shrug. “Probably for the best anyhows.” He picked up vial for himself and headed out with a wave goodnight to her, his sympathies for the two of them creasing lines across his face before he closed the door.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” she asked him, still threading her fingers through his hair, the tips of her nails dragging across his scalp in rows, stimulating the nerves that were ever-so-sensitive along the crown. She knew she was calming him, proof in his rhythmic breathing and the sigh that escaped his lips.

“Do I have to?” he asked in return. Gone was any hint of Slytherin playful tactic, it was purely innocent and full of trepidation. 

“Only just the part that made you barrel into here. At least tell me that.”

She felt his face rub sideways as he shook his head. “That’s the whole premise of the dream. Can I tell you it later?”

“Draco, you can tell me about it and then we can take the vials and sleep easy. Tell me when it’s fresh in your mind, so you don’t lose the details.”

She was rewarded with another tight squeeze and muffled murmurings, almost contemplating reaching for her wand to pry him off before he surprised her by letting go and sitting upright. His eyes were red, wet, and haunted. His lips were thin and pulled tight as if he were fighting against the words that wanted to erupt out and a shaky hand reached across her lap took hold of it, a lifeline to keep him grounded in the present.

“Ok, I will.” He conceded with a wince. “Just…don’t say anything, no matter how many times I pause and for how long. Just let me get it out before you say anything.” He pleaded, hanging his head. It took him a moment, after she agreed, for him to begin, and through every horrid detail, he managed to describe the dream. He felt sick afterwards and had to look at his hands once again to make sure they weren’t slick with blood instead of sweat.

There was a heavy, unsettling tense silence that followed as she took all the information in. 

“I’m sorry Draco.” She softly stated, squeezing his hand. “I must’ve planted that seed in your subconscious when I told you to choose after your father’s letter. When I said it was literally life and death…I should’ve known better than to-”

“No, don’t do that. Don’t shoulder the blame.” He snapped up, looking fiercely at her. “If anything, this just exemplifies my father’s nature. He moved you into the knife’s path. I know, because I tried so hard to aim away from you, I had just a little control. And he knew it. I had just enough in me to know where I was moving.” He shook his head bitterly. “That bastard…he knew what I was going to do.”

What he was going to do. Which meant, he’d made his decision. He’d finally come around on his own and reached a conclusion, the one that inevitably placed them both in danger, but at least now they were on the same side.

If it wasn’t such a dour setting, Hermione could’ve leapt for joy. But taking pleasure from his obvious difficult and guilt-inducing choice would be in poor taste. While she couldn’t be more proud of him, she worried just as much as he currently was. What it spelled for the future. All she could do was support him, comfort him, and make his choice worth it.

“Thank you.” She whispered. She leaned over and placed a chaste kiss to his cheek, cupping the other in her hand. “I think it’s time that you get some rest now.” She slid to the side and got to her feet, reluctant as he was, he released her hand so she could hand him the vial from her desk. She plucked up the one reserved for her and took her place back on the bed.

“Can I stay?” he asked. “I know that taking this,” he implied with a little wiggle of the vial, “Won’t make an impact as to where we sleep, but I’d feel more comfortable knowing you’re beside me.”

She scrunched her lips up in a failed attempt to not break into a smile. She’d been thinking about inviting him to stay but didn’t want to look desperate. The first time he did, it was by her request, her vulnerability that needed comforting. Now it was his. Of course, it was highly improper and not something they should be doing, but she’d wager that not every student was going through the same emotional turmoil that they were. And if it was her who had the nightmare, she’d be feeling the same way.

“Yes, I don’t mind.” She sat down beside him and placed the vial next to her thigh. “Though we shan’t be making a habit of it.” She added shyly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

He leaned forward. “I won’t tell if you won’t.” he smirked with familiarity. He brought his hand up to untuck the strand from her ear and toyed with it, reveling in its springiness. “If having a nightmare is the price I have to pay in order to have a little sleepover with my favorite witch, looking at me with those big worried eyes of hers, then I’ll take it.”

Her cheeks flushed, knowing it was bravado on his part but still hearing him say something so sweet still had that effect on her stomach, making the butterflies flutter and her chest tighten with a heated twist around her heart. Did he know he had this effect on her? Surely his charm only went so far of his own accord…he must’ve been schooled in it by someone.

“You don’t have to say things like that.”

“What things?” he asked with a tilt, his fingers releasing the curl and caressing her cheek. “The truth? I thought we liked the truth.”

She brought her hand up to where his was. “There’s truth…and then there’s…embellishment.”

His nostrils flared. Embellishment eh? Witch, you have no idea how much I’m holding back.

“Then let me speak the truth in another way.” He whispered, bringing her face up towards his own, stopping just an inch away from his lips. “If that’s alright?”

“Yes.” She had barely passed the word from her mouth before he descended upon it with his own, his hand sliding from her cheek to cradle the back of her head, fingers buried in lush curls. His vial slipped from his other hand, rolling along the mattress to clink against the other one as he pulled her flush against his chest, her arms automatically wrapping around his neck as she balanced herself on her knees and let him guide her body towards his. Touching like this was reserved only for the privacy of a closed and warded door, where nothing needed to be hidden from each other. Where hands could touch more than just hands, where heartbeats and hard breaths were the only words spoken, and where eyes didn’t lie.

In this moment, there was no looking over her shoulder, no enemies to be aware of and friends to impede on their personal space. Heck, there wasn’t even Crookshanks as he seemed to prefer sleeping next to his fluffy darling Morgana according to Millicent. Just her and her boyfriend. Kissing. On her bed. Alone.

She wondered briefly how her parents would react, if they ever got to meet him. Surely they’d give him a stern once-over and come to their own conclusions even before he opened his perfectly charming mouth and enchant them with his expertly crafty tongue. Her mother would swoon at his gentlemanly ways and her father would view him like the dangerous snake he was and keep them at arm’s length. At first. Eventually he’d let up. Surely he would. Draco would somehow turn her father around. How they managed to change themselves from bitter rivals to friends and now to…this…well, she hoped they’d understand.

They’d moved on from lips, kissing necks and collarbones, fingers carding through hair and along backs. Little marks left as proof of their bond to each other. If she had on any lipstick it would’ve worn away by now. Somehow she’d become situated in his lap, straddling him like the last time. Only now they were both dressed in button up tops and elastic banded sleep pants rather than their school uniforms, the friction and heat between them far more palpable.

In a spur of the moment rush of courage, Hermione took one of Draco’s hands-the one currently sliding alongside her spine-and brought it around to her chest, placing it directly on her pert little breast. He immediately froze, breath hitched in his throat and grey eyes darkening as he met her gaze. She nudged his hand just a smidge, giving him permission to touch her. Obviously, she’d not allowed anyone this privilege before, evident in her slight tremor but she assured him she was alright by taking hold of his chin and bringing his mouth to meet hers.

“Only over the clothes.” She instructed him once he began moving his hand.

He wasn’t going to argue. Her room, her body, her rules.

The next few minutes were perpetual bliss as new territory was discovered, a new boundary crossed, and the strength of their trust grew in each other. He had to pace himself, not being rough or rushed in his actions, aware that she could demand he stop at any given moment. She had to be aware of herself, not getting so caught up that she allowed anything further that she wasn’t ready for. It was a very thin line they teetered until she gasped out loud and pulled away from him.

“Ok, enough.” She panted, trying to maintain a sense of authority. The haze in her mind was as thick as London fog and temptation to go further was whispering in her ear. 

He pulled his hands away. “Sorry!” he immediately exclaimed, believing he’d gone too far. A second longer and he just might have.

She shook her head. “No, you’re fine. I just feel like this is a good time to stop.”

He nodded, throat feeling too thick to swallow and body firing on all cylinders. She had excellent timing, he’d give her that. At least now they had a sense of how long they could handle touching one other before losing their control and he didn’t need to flee the room in embarrassment to later relieve himself.

“You alright?” he asked, his hands now resting on her hips.

“I’m fine.” She answered, brushing hair back from her face, visibly flushed into a rosy pink. Shielding her face from his observations, she bent down to pick up the vials. “Here.” She said, handing him the one she was certain was his if memory served correct.

He chuckled as he took the thin glass tube. “You certainly know how to show a wizard a good time.” He teased.

“Oh shut up.” She rolled her eyes, shifting herself off his lap and off to his side. 

“Ever so bossy.” He mused, opening the bottle and drinking the contents. He set it aside and nestled into the bed beside her, pulling the blanket over them both. She finished her vial and also placed it on the trunk at the foot of her bed, slipping into a comfortable position, allowing him to sling an arm over her form and whisper goodnight before the potion took effect.  
……………………….

Even before her eyes opened, she felt there was something wrong. One didn’t need to have a genius I.Q. in order to put it together that there was someone lying in bed next to her, and there was only one person who would be. She just couldn’t figure out why. 

She certainly didn’t recall giving him permission to be here. Hell, she barely remembered anything after going to bed after the curfew bell. And yet, here he was, arm draped around her torso, hand awfully close to the underside of her breast, and the way his finger twitched in little rhythmic patterns told her he was awake.

Had he snuck in here?

But why would he do that? Just because they got a little flirty the evening before didn’t mean her door was literally open for him to come and go at his leisure! Didn’t he claim to be a gentleman?

She felt another twitch from his fingers and a jolt shot through her. This wasn’t right, somehow. She fiercely slapped his hand and bolted upright, whipping around to face him and ignoring the shock of his features, promptly put her hand on his chest and pushed. Hard. He fell off the bed, landing square on his bum with just the smallest of grunts and dumbfoundedly remained there as she took stock of her surroundings.

“What are you doing in here?” she demanded.

The incredulous look upon his face almost made her regret using that tone, but she wasn’t going to be fooled with the pretense of innocence. 

“W-what do you mean?” he stuttered out in utter surprise. His disheveled hair and rumpled pajamas told her he’d been beside her all night. “You told me I could stay.”

“I did no such thing!” She adamantly responded, pulling her blanket up to her chest. She noticed her top button was undone. It left her feeling nervous. Vulnerable. 

“Yes, you did. I came in with Theo and Blaise. I had a nightmare.” He stated plainly. Surely this little lapse in memory would clear up soon, with the mention of the right word it would all come back.

“A nightmare.” She replied flatly. 

He steadied the rising ire and took a breath. “A nightmare, a terrible one. And I told you it. All the details. Which I’d rather not again but for the sake of simplicity it involved you meeting a gruesome end.”

“And what? I just agreed to let you stay?” she asked, shaking her head, trying to recall the puzzle pieces to fit together. “You didn’t sneak in?”

“Sneak? Hermione I was in a right state and that’s why Blaise got the…..oh my god…the draughts…” he trailed off as the cogs spun and suddenly the final picture shown clearly in his head. The special draught Snape mixed for him…it was made for him to forget the nightmare, and somehow Hermione accidentally drank it instead.

“That still doesn’t explain…” she pulled down the blanket, revealing her neck and unbuttoned top. She touched the sensitive spots where he’d marked her, where she knew even without seeing that they were bright purple blotches. “I don’t remember this.”

Panic was under the surface, but he could see it in her eyes. Her mind was reeling and the math wasn’t adding up, but there was evidence of something that had transpired but she couldn’t recall.

“What did you do?” she whispered, her voice wavering, her eyes glossy. 

He struggled for an answer to give, but nothing he could think of would accurately explain it properly. How could he? She didn’t remember any of it, and how could he say it had been by her will?

“Hermione I swear-”

She shook her head as a tear slipped from one eye. “Get out.”

“Wait, I didn’t do anythin-”

“Get. Out. Draco.” She ordered, finger pointing to the door that slammed itself open against the wall. “Don’t make me throw you out.” She added in a hurt tone fueled with the power to do it.

He nodded, hands up in surrender. “I’m going.” He said softly, easy, as if trying to assure an animal that he wouldn’t harm it. Slowly, he rose to his feet and ambled backwards, fearing what might happen if he turned his back, trying to figure out how to fix this, what it would take for her to believe him.

When his heel crossed the threshold she flicked her hand again and the door swung towards his face, making him jump the last few inches back to prevent having his nose broken. The sound of her gut-wrenching cries that followed tore at his heart. He placed a hand to her door, followed by his forehead and listened to her sob and mutter to herself that she should’ve never trusted herself to him.  
…………………..

Professor Snape rarely allowed his personal quarters to be visited by students, even though they knew where it was they were all to steer clear unless it was a dire emergency. And what constituted as an emergency varied but only in slight measures. He of course, made the allowance for his godson once Draco arrived in his first year, telling him that if he ever needed anything he could come to him.

He had to give it to the lad for his restraint; he fully expected his entrance to become a revolving door for every transgression that befell him but he soon learned that every shout of him promising to go to his father was mostly bluster. He had more dealings with spoilt Slytherin daddy’s girls than his own godson wanting him to set things right.   
So he was concerned and confused when Draco nearly beat his door into splinters, shouting his name and demanding to given entry. Severus flung the wooden barrier open and regarded his godson with a skeptic eye, with mussy hair and wrinkled sleepwear. He didn’t look like someone who had slept peacefully the previous evening.

“What was in that vial?” Draco demanded, fists clenched at his sides.

“It was Dreamless Sleep, Draco.” He drawled slowly. “You were to drink the one I specifically gave to Blaise. Did he not follow instruction?”

“It was set aside. He took his and left.” Draco answered, suddenly aware that he would have to divulge details that should’ve remained just between him and her. “I stayed in Hermione’s room.”

A brow arched.

“The nightmare…It was about her. I had to see if she was alright!” Draco sputtered out. “I told her everything, she let me stay with her, but she must’ve drunk my vial by mistake….She thinks I took advantage of her!” he slammed his fists against his godfather’s chest. “It’s all your fault! She’ll never let me near her again now, thinking I did…worse…Why didn’t you just tell us what it was? Why’d you think I needed to forget? You have to fix this! I didn’t do anything to her, I swear! I swear it!”

Snape gripped his godson by his shoulders and pulled him from his personal space, keeping him at arm’s length. “Legilimens.” He incanted, placing the boy under the spell, searching the fresh memory at the very surface, seeing into the rattled teen’s mind and images he truly wished not to be privy to.

Teenagers and their damn hormones.

At least it was far more innocent than he anticipated, he thanked Merlin. Hands kept over clothes as they latched onto each other’s necks like leaches. He rewound further, to where Draco explained the terrifying vision his mind; dark images conjured with the narrative he gave.

“Obliviate.” He whispered, erasing both unpleasant scenarios from Draco’s mind-unpleasant only for him to have to endure this whole debacle, for he was certain beyond a shadow of doubt that Draco would’ve wanted to hold onto that memory with her dearly. But if she didn’t remember it, it was cruel to let Draco be the only one burdened. It was only fair.

The boy wavered in his professor’s grip, the exertion of two memories wiped from his mind and heart draining the overly emotional teen into catatonia. 

“Fucking teenagers.” Snape sighed, holding his godson until Draco came to his senses. He sent him away with a clever white lie to explain away the fact that he was in his godfather’s chamber, still dressed for bed, watching as he left unburdened, now that he carried it himself.

But his job was not done yet. There was another burden to bear.  
…………………………

Bodyguard requirements be damned, Hermione strode into the girl’s lavatory, checking to see if she was alone, and warded the entrance for privacy. She undressed and checked herself in the mirror, noting that the only marks she had were in the realm of a regular snogging session-just the neck and collarbone area-and that her clothing had seemed mostly undisturbed, but she had to be sure.

Her mother had given her a very thorough talk about her anatomy in the summer before the school year began, knowing the change was evident in her daughter and that Hermione would be smart enough to understand the consequences of not being protected if she did decide to explore her sexuality. Granted, Mrs. Granger was not giving her permission to be foolhardy, but merely educating her should ‘something’ happen. 

And while there was no sexual education class in the Hogwarts curriculum, there were plenty of books discussing the charms necessary for contraception, easing morning sickness, trying to either wane one’s libido or enhance it, as well as checking one’s virginity-whoever thought that spell up must’ve been around teens up to no good. 

To her great relief, she discovered she was still intact, and Draco hadn’t done anything towards her. But that relief ebbed quickly as she realized she’d pretty much accused him of some sort of date-rape and hadn’t given him the opportunity to explain himself. He was probably off somewhere thinking that if she couldn’t trust him to keep his hands to himself for a single night then she’d never trust him. He was more than likely believing that he’d be better off with a proper pureblood witch who wouldn’t set him up for such a scenario.

She had to apologize.

Quickly she dressed and unwarded the bathroom just in time to bump into Pansy, who’d been looking for her. “Professor Snape wants to see you; he’s in the common room.”  
She gave her a nod and darted into the room, only to find it was empty, save a dour looking, black-clad, stoic potion master who looked like he’d rather be in real sunlight than currently there, with her. “I believe we need to have a little discussion.” He said upon her arrival, and she felt her blood chill.

Of course, Draco would’ve gone to him to clear his name. Obviously.

But she couldn’t trust that the room was safe. Not with Skeeter constantly tailing her. “The library?” she offered. “I’d feel more secure there.”

“Quite.” Her head of house quipped, following along in her wake. He said nothing as she opened the door and held it for him to pass her, closed it and then warded it for silence. A quick Homenum Revelio assured her it was just the two of them in the room.

“I’m so sorry Professor-” She began, stopping when he held his hand up for silence.

“I’m well aware of what transpired.” He explained. “You have nothing to worry about.”

Her breathing rate increased. “But what I said…I have to apologize to him!”

“It’s been handled.” He stated. “And you’ll do well to not place yourself in such a precarious situation again.” He crossed his arms. “You may not have a true dorm spelled to keep the opposite sex out but that does not give you leeway to invite them for a sleepover. Merlin forbid word gets out about that. The shite will literally hit the chandelier if parents believe I am lax in my duties of protecting the virtue of my students.”

She bit her lip with a solemn nod. “I understand.”

“Now, there is one last thing to do.” he said. “Legilimens.” He incanted before she could prepare herself. He dug into the memory of the morning, of her fear and anger and confusion, immediately believing Draco had done something unforgiveable. “Obliviate.” He chanted, pointing his wand at her, taking away the unfortunate memory. She didn’t need to carry the burden of guilt for blaming someone of something they didn’t do.

Her eyes flickered as she came to, wondering why on earth she was talking with Professor Snape in the Slytherin library when she should be on her way to breakfast.

“As I was saying, Miss Granger,” he sighed with a roll of his eyes, “If you’re going to lower yourself in a fisticuff with another student then do so out of sight where a professor won’t be around to dock points and hand out detention.”

She quickly nodded, pretending to go along with the lecture she’d obviously zoned out on. What the heck was wrong with her this morning? She couldn’t even recall falling asleep, let alone choosing the clothes she was wearing or how she ended up in the room she was in. Apparently she hadn’t gotten the restful sleep she had first thought if she was already missing parts of her routine. But she wasn’t going to let on and receive yet another lecture. So she bobbed along and exited upon his dismissal and headed along down the corridor towards the Great Hall to meet up with her fellow housemates and friends, curious as to why she late until she informed then she had a little chat with Snape, then everyone just gave their non-committal responses and went back to chowing down.

Blaise and Theodore had also been called to speak with Snape, only their conversation did not end with Obliviation. He informed the two that the draught for Draco contained a memory altering ingredient and that he wouldn’t remember the details of the evening. It would be prudent to not broach the subject to either him or to Granger. They agreed and figured it for the best. After all, Draco hadn’t shared the details of his nightmare with them so it was best left untouched.

Draco was only vaguely aware of their snogging interlude, since Snape didn’t have bruise cream on hand to wipe away the marks left by each other; he saved just the briefest of moments so they had something tangible to explain them. When Hermione sat down next to him at breakfast, he had this queer sensation that something significant had happened but he couldn’t pinpoint why. And why he couldn’t remember. Maybe it was just a dream. Either way he knew now how he felt and what he wanted to do, he just needed to find the right moment to tell her.

She ruled his heart. Stole it, cradled it, fed it. 

For the witch capable of doing that, he’d have to face the music that his father was a culprit in a plot. There was this terrible nagging in the back of his mind that Lucius had already done some horrible deed though he couldn’t say why. And he was the only one able to make it known. He’d have to go see Dumbledore.

Watching her out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that she was angled ever-so-slightly in his direction, her eye turned to meet his. He felt a little flip in his stomach at finally having caught her sneaking a glance at him. Before he could help it, he was already grinning, watching her cheeks flame up. 

Ha, busted!

“Yes sweetheart?” he cheekily crowed. “You’re staring.”

“Oh…I…uh…” she stammered, feeding his ego. “I just have this niggling feeling that I should apologize for something…”

“Ah, that would be guilt for getting us all caught up in detention for your little duel with the Weasel.” Theo replied with a mouth half full of food.

“Hey, it’s worth it.” Harry chimed in, with cheeks full like a chipmunk. “No one messes with my best girl and gets away with it.” He pointed to the row across from him, consisting of Blaise, Draco, Hermione, Tracey and Millicent. He was nestled between Theo at his left and Neville to his right, with Pansy and Daphne to follow.

“And what am I? Chopped dragon liver? I was right there Potter.” Draco scoffed.

“I seem to remember a brief moment or two.” The green-eyed prat joked. Draco realized he was taking the mickey out on him and let it slide. Potter wasn’t nearly the stuck up celebrity he’d originally envisioned him to be and he had to admit he kinda liked the sass the kid threw around at times. Even at his own expense now that they were sorta friends by association.

“You two were both brilliant, thank you.” Hermione cut in, playing the peacemaker before food would become the next weapon of choice. “And yes, I apologize for flushing everyone’s plans down the drain for today for getting involved in the mix. Snape said the next time I get into a fight to make sure no one else is around, can you believe it?”

“He was probably joking.” Neville stated, although he couldn’t be sure since the long standing feud between Gryffindors and Slytherins had been set in the very foundation of the school and every professor that became head of house carried it onto their pupils and future alumni.

“Right, Snape. Life of the party and cracking jokes.” Blaise snorted into his teacup, nearly spilling the brew upon himself. “Now that I’d pay to see.”

After the morning meal came to an end and the fourth years were corralled together by Snape, McGonagall, and Moody, the group found themselves broken up into smaller parties-with no antagonistic members to instigate anything-Draco found himself standing next to Potter and were awaiting instruction when he leaned over just a tad and nudged the Boy Wonder.

“Hey Scarface, I need a favor.”

“You do realize that there was a famous American gangster who pretty much has the rights on the nickname Scarface? So if you could stop calling me that, I might be willing to hear you out.”

Draco sighed. No, he didn’t know the nickname had already been coined by some Muggle thief from the damn Yankees, but he’d concede the point to Potter for what he needed. “Ok fine Potter, if it means that much to you I’ll stop.”

“So what’s the fave?”

Draco expelled a breath. “I need to speak with Dumbledore.”  
…………………………


	55. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore gets the surprise visit of Draco and Harry in his office-not in trouble for once-and is given a crash course in the secret plan of the Anti-Death Eater Quartet.

At first, Harry thought Draco was just ribbing him for the joke during breakfast, but it only took a second for him to see the seriousness of the paler teen’s face and he nodded. “Yeah alright. It’s not like it’s hard.”

Draco swiveled his head around. “For you maybe, you’re his bloody damn favorite. Only time I get with him is when I’m in trouble.”

Harry wasn’t going to argue that little statement, it was right on the money. He knew Dumbledore expressed extra attention when it came to him, but he’d been given the details as to why along the years. With his godfather imprisoned there was no other family to take him in other than the Dursley’s, but as long as he was staying at Hogwarts he was under the special protection the Headmaster provided, for there were still enemies abound.

Whatever he needed, the headmaster saw to. He wouldn’t be surprised if it had been him to secretly gift him his father’s invisibility cloak in first year. He never asked and wouldn’t bring it up. It was just something that didn’t need to be said. And he knew if he strolled over to Dumbledore right now and asked for a private word he’d get it in a heartbeat. If Draco did, Dumbledore might tell him to arrange it for later once he was through with detention or class or whatever assigned duty they had for the day.

Hadn’t Hermione told him, ‘use your own fame you dolt’?

“How important is this visit?” Harry asked.

Draco cocked a brow at him. “Your life important.” he sneered for just a second, a little tired of the prying. Bad enough he had to ask for this favor to begin with.

Harry nodded. “We’re not going to get out of detention, so we’ll do it at lunch, ok?”

“Fine by me. I have some things to gather up to bring to him.” He replied, already turning his head so it wouldn’t appear that they were having such an intimate conversation.  
Harry could’ve whooped in joy and fist-pumped the air because he knew exactly what Draco was referring to and it hadn’t even taken some intervention from him and Theo to make him come around. Oh he couldn’t wait to tell Theo! This was a huge victory on their part. And his too. Personally, he realized. Kinda unnerving to realize that his life did hang in precarious holds of the hands of others. This wouldn’t have been possible without Hermione, he knew that much. Draco’s whole turnaround was due to her being able to set aside their tumultuous past and see him for who he truly was, even if he hadn’t figured it out.

She was right about him, though it had taken a few months to see it, but Draco Malfoy wasn’t entirely a bad guy. 

That single thought gave him such elation that even all through the grueling labor intensive work they’d all been put through as their penance for fighting; he had a smile on his face and a skip in his step. It only further irritated Moody (whom he knew was Crouch Jr) but he worked in glee regardless. Nothing against the rules about being chipper while serving detention was there?  
……………………….

With gardens weeded, toilets scrubbed, Thestral droppings scooped up, Quidditch stands swept, and Great Hall floor waxed to a gleaming shine, the entire fourth year student body was worn out and filthy from their set chores. A mad rush to the bathrooms came to follow before they were allowed their lunch-set for an hour later due to the floor being polished-which gave them the time needed to freshen up and work out their sore muscles.

Draco left the details of getting their audience with Dumbledore to Harry as he took the shortest shower of his life and threw on the first garments he touched from his wardrobe and gathered up all his letters from his father. Harry would be procuring the list for the ritual, and both agreed to not mention the map if it was possible. Before parting ways Harry had stopped him.

“Hey…why do you care so much about my map?” he asked.

Draco clicked his tongue and mulled over the answer for a second. “Heirlooms are important Potter.” He said tightly, twisting the signet ring on his right ring finger. A gift passed from father to son in the same summer Draco overheard his father’s plans for him. The ring, once a treasure relic he longed to wear with pride now felt like a weight pulling him down into darkness. He was clawing so hard to stay above it, to continue reaching for the light.

Harry took a second to digest the statement, the words as well their meaning and the tone in which they were spoken. Honestly, if his dorm caught on fire the map and cloak would be the two things he’d grab first. Brooms were replaceable, as were clothes. Hell, he barely owned anything that wasn’t a hand-me-down or plucked from rummage sales.

“Thanks Malfoy.” he said, tucking his hands into his pockets and shuffling up the stairs towards the Gryffindor tower.

Draco wasn’t sure why he felt the need to protect Potter’s precious map from someone like Dumbledore, those two were thick as thieves, but Old D just might put on his Headmaster robes at the sight of such a powerful tool and confiscate it. He couldn’t stomach being the catalyst for something like that. Hell, he wasn’t even comfortable if Professor Snape took it. It just wasn’t….right.

Where the hell do I get off on trying to say what’s right or wrong? 

He shook the thoughts away as he glanced down at the hunk on silver on his hand. What the ring represented wasn’t something he believed in anymore. If Lucius had given it to him in first year (although it would’ve been too large to wear on his finger) he would’ve beamed with pride and shown it off like he was wearing the Crown Jewels. But last year, when he’d come so close to being discovered eavesdropping and Lucius had called him into his study, and every step there felt like the slow march of a pall bearer carrying his own coffin, he’d been in perfect shock when his father turned and smiled at him, handing over the relic with words like “doing the family proud” and “it’s time for you to know what it means to be a Malfoy” ringing in his ears. Lucius had always known how much his son coveted the masculine piece of jewelry and in his younger years, would occasionally slip it off his own hand and let his son hold it, marvel at its weight and craftsmanship as he would regal him with its legacy.

Bile built up in his throat. Despite the love for his father, what he was did-or was planning to do-was wrong. Voldemort died with a backfired spell, yes, not the glamorous end to the reign of a dark wizard, but he lost. His time was over. To bring him back, with this spell, it meant so much worse was going to come. And then what? What if the dark lord felt no need of the Malfoy family? There would be no protection from that, nowhere to run to and the family name would be dragged down in shame all the same.

Draco Malfoy, the boy who thinks being good is hard….

He clutched the letters. Being good hurt. Being good meant hard choices. Being good brought pain. Why in the hell did people put themselves through this and not just save themselves? But what point was saving himself if he didn’t have her to stand with him when it was all said and done? Wasn’t this all for her anyway? To ensure a future with her was even possible?  
……………………

He felt nervous. But Harry was as relaxed as ever, like he was visiting a beloved uncle or something. They took the offered seats in front of the desk, Harry taking an offered candy from the dish while Draco looked around at the many portraits adorning the walls before the headmaster waved a hand and secured them shut with their enchanted curtains. Not even being in this room days ago with his mother brought him any comfort to steal himself for what was to come.

Harry took point, greasing the wheel as it were and building a bridge for the Slytherin and Headmaster to meet at. Draco had to admit, he had a way at making it all seem so easy. Albus Dumbledore was an open minded wizard and had heard the plights of teens decades over by now. Heard them all. Except this.

With letters and a hand written list of the ritual, there was no denying the allegations the young Malfoy was speaking against his own father. Undeniable proof of what his worst fears confirmed, provided by the enemy’s own son. 

He couldn’t be prouder of the two boys. 

“I assume that Miss Granger is aware of this as well?” he asked after taking to his feet and facing the large window.

“Yeah, she’s aware.” Draco answered. “These letters…well, it made her put some distance with me until I came to my own conclusion.”

“Ah. I’m sure this wasn’t easy for you.” The old man replied softly.

Draco expelled a breath. “I’m worried for my mother’s safety…I couldn’t go through with this knowing she’d be left the fallout but before she left, it felt like she was prepared for it.”

“Never underestimate your mother.” Dumbledore chuckled. “She’s much stronger than most wizards give her credit for. If she’s anything like her sister Andromeda.”

Again, mention of his disowned aunt he’d never met.

“Is anyone else aware of this plot besides Miss Granger?” he asked, giving both boys a scrutinizing eye that made them squirm. After the two of them meeting each other’s eye and coming to a silent agreement, they revealed that Theodore Nott was included. Dumbledore quickly scrawled a note and sent it flying off. “I do believe it would be best if all parties involved are present.” He explained to the two teens.

“We’re not in trouble are we?” Draco asked, suddenly on guard.

Albus shook his head. “Far from it. But if the four of you have banded together in preparation for this attack, then by all means, we should plan together.”  
……………………..

The note came fluttering straight to Severus in his office, now that he’d finally had a moment to sit for tea and overlook rolls of parchment. He sighed and cast a heating charm over his cup and went in search of the two students requested, glad at least that they were usually together and relatively easy to find. Of course, right in her little personal lab, fiddling with her potion and plants, chatting away with Theo and Neville and Pansy.

Interesting development there, not that it was his business. He was already up to his ears in the Merlin-forsaken drama surrounding Malfoy and Granger. Parkinson could go elope with Longbottom right this very day and he’d even supply the happy couple with a basket full of fertility enhancing potions and let them Floo to France with a merry adieu.  
Her family was by far tamer in their escapades and not being personally involved in family matters was certainly a better option.

“Sorry to break up the garden party but Nott and Granger are needed in the Headmaster’s office, post haste.” He announced dryly when the door opened. Pansy and Neville got to their feet, their brief interlude as a couple coming to an all too soon end. They were just about to pack up their belongings before Granger placed her hand on Neville’s shoulder and asked him to watch over her plants, which he clearly knew was code for the two to stay and have a little privacy.

Snape rolled his eyes as he stood in the hall waiting for them to get their shit together and go.

“I’m not here for the two of you, do what you want.” He said once Granger and Nott finally joined him and furled his cloak out in a dramatic swish when he turned. The door closed behind them with the familiar clink of it being locked, warded, and silenced. Standard procedure for coming and going from the room.

“I trust that the two of you can continue your way? I have papers to grade.” 

“Of course Professor. We’re not in trouble or else you’d be dragging us there by our ears.” Theo regarded with a grin.   
……………………

Dumbledore motioned for Draco to come stand beside him at the window, Harry was just absentmindedly petting Fawkes and giving him treats to pass the time.

“I may be an old man, but I am certainly not blind.” He said, hands folded behind his back. “You’ve become quite close with Miss Granger, haven’t you?”

Draco shifted his weight to one leg. “What of it?”

The headmaster let out a small chuckle. “Much of it. I highly doubt without her influence that you’d be here right now, having given up vital information about your father.”

Draco swallowed the hard lump. “I didn’t want to…” he trailed off. “If there was another way…”

Dumbledore nodded. “In time Draco, you will look back onto this moment and realize you made a truly pivotal decision-one that affects many-and you are becoming your own person. I will do what I can to assist you in regards to your father. Every student of mine lives under my protection.”

It felt like a hollow promise, for surely, what could Dumbledore do for him once school was out? How could he protect him from his father’s wrath then? He merely nodded in acquiescence but didn’t voice his doubts. After all, he had just come to him with this information; it would be rude to snub the offer to return the favor.

“What does she mean to you?” he asked a moment later.

Startled, Draco looked over his shoulder just to make sure Potter was well enough away to not overhear. Why would the headmaster care of the relationship between two students? Then again, he knew that Hermione was not the average Hogwarts student. She was exceptional. She would become one of their most famous alumni upon graduation and go on to great things. With or without him.

“Everything.” He whispered.  
…………………..

Upon entry to the office, Hermione and Theo froze instantly, seeing Draco by the man himself and Harry with the fabled phoenix. The scene looked quite odd, so odd that its oddness was what made Hermione feel like something significant had happened. Certainly they weren’t in trouble, but then again one could not be so sure of anything this year.  
“Draco gave him the letters.” Harry said, breaking the silence, knowing that both Hermione and Theo knew of them separately and were unaware of the other knowing of them.  
Her breath caught in her throat as she brought her hands to her mouth in surprise, leaving it to Theo to usher her further within the room and shutting the door behind him. “Good on you mate.” Theo said, for once, so proud of his best friend that he could’ve kissed him.

“Well go on…” Dumbledore said, nudging Draco forward. He didn’t need any more prompting than that, suddenly jolting forward and rushing to meet her, taking her hands away from her mouth.

“I feel like…like I’ve already said this…but I must’ve dreamed it.” He whispered, trying to wrack his mind for the memory but coming up blank. He lifted his head and met her eyes. “But it’s you. Hermione. I’ve chosen.”

She sniffed back the tears that threatened to spill forth, but couldn’t hold back the cry in her throat as she flung her arms around his neck and hugged him fiercely. Meanwhile, Theo had somehow slunk off unnoticed up to Harry’s side and playfully nudged him with his elbow.

“How bout that eh? We didn’t have to beat him over the head with Beater’s Bat.” He laughed.

“Glad for it.” Harry replied, slinging his arm over Theo’s shoulder. “Just think what she’d do to us if she caught us.”

“Oh don’t even mention it.” The brunet faked shuddered for exaggeration. 

The headmaster clapped his hands twice to gather their attention. He motioned over to the settee and nearby chairs, conjuring up another chair and levitating the papers from his desk to the coffee table. He took a seat and the students followed suit, Hermione and Draco taking the loveseat and the others getting a chair of their own. “Now then, on to business.”  
…………………..

Hermione had taken diligent notes of their meetings, not that the boys were terribly surprised by that. What did surprise Draco was that she had written down in clear verbatim the letter Lucius had sent to Snape, that he’d only shown her in his mind that day in the dojo side of the lab. He stiffened and blanched at the sight of it, disgusted even more with his father as Dumbledore glanced over the letter with arched brows and tight lips.

There was no escaping the fate Lucius Malfoy had set himself up for. Not if things like this were ever made public. Not if Dumbledore could actually provide him some sense of protection in the fallout. He didn’t know where his godfather would stand amidst it but he knew without a doubt that it was a charade and nothing more. Snape was looking out for their best interest.

“It appears I’ll have to speak with Severus about this little façade of yours.” He’d thankfully not read the letter out loud and Hermione had it folded so neither Theo nor Harry had a chance to see it. They never would if he had anything to say about it. He folded it back up and tucked it into the short pile of the other evidence presented. All except for the map.

“Though one thing remains yet to be explained.” The headmaster hinted at, letting his sentence linger and hover above the quartet for them to all search each other’s faces and come to the same conclusion as he continued. “How did you come to the conclusion that Professor Moody is actually Barty Crouch Jr?”

This question was directed at Hermione, she made compelling points the boys of her theory after they confirmed it with the map. Things hadn’t added up, hence why she risked everything that day. Now, could she convince their headmaster of the same thing without giving it away? But her explanations felt flat and weak once she started listing them, even to her own ears. The constant sipping from his flask, a change in accent, posture, and attitude towards certain school houses was not proof but conjecture. Even protesting that Winky could point him out still didn’t explain her reasoning’s as to why she’d suspect him of being someone she’d never met.

“I can’t…” she said, shaking her head, an apologetic tone evident as she was mentally calculating another way. “It’s not my secret to tell…”

“My dear, we cannot move forward without viable proof.” The old man gently coaxed, his fatherly tone and lowered posture all part of his demeanor that usually got a student to open up. But not this one. If anything, she shut further into herself. He was left with no other choice then…

She realized what he was about to do a split second before he incanted the spell, throwing up her Occlumency walls quickly and reinforcing them with her determination to not betray her friend. Draco felt her grip tighten on his hand as her eyes clouded over and stare off into an unknown as Dumbledore leaned forward just a bit, hands on his knees.  
“What the-?” Harry sputtered, Theo throwing out an arm to prevent him from jumping upwards. They had to trust their headmaster, right?

“What do you think you’re doing?” Draco frantically shouted, watching the mental debacle take place right before him. Hermione was shaking her head side to side.

“I won’t betray him. I won’t.” she repeated to herself.

Dumbledore felt the walls slam tight in front of him, rows and rows of bookshelves; filled with books to become a needle in a haystack kind of search should anyone try to pry information from her. All the books looked alike, the same color and shape, nothing to give the true memory away. Such a clever tactic. Snape had been teaching her well. Her determination was fierce, but she was afraid, having facing off with someone she trusted. His presence here would’ve normally been welcomed had he only asked permission, but he needed to test her mettle.

He let her force more walls in place, literally throwing books at his astral form as he stood in the vast library that was her mind. Her loyalty was never in question. However novice she may be at the art, she had incredible strength, stemming from her own character. Once he felt he had given her enough of a run, he pulled back and allowed her to settle down slowly.

Had Draco not been holding her he would’ve jumped from the seat and pounced on the headmaster, consequences be damned. But the amused look on Dumbledore’s face took the wind right out his and the other’s sails as Hermione came down from her defensive high.

Once her eyes focused on him, bright with anger and clarity, he began to clap. “Well done Miss Granger. Well done indeed!”

Harry and Theo were just as confused; unsure of what just happened but not liking it one bit. They just witnessed a Legilimens vs Occlumens battle and the results received mixed emotions. Wasn’t what he just did wrong? Who won? Why was he clapping? Did he get the information he wanted? Did Hermione push him out?

“No need for alarm.” He placated, holding his hands up. “You passed with flying O’s my dear, I’ve known about the map for some years now.”

“You what?!?” Harry choked.

“Why the hell didn’t you say so?” Draco shouted.

“What was the point of all that then?” Theo cried, hands up in the air.

Hermione shuddered out a breath. “To test us. Our integrity and loyalty. Mine especially.” Her voice was strained through gritted teeth. “I may not be a Gryffindor but I still remain true to my friends.”

“Of that, I never doubted.” He proudly replied. “As for the Marauder’s Map, I knew of it from Remus actually. He came forward with it after the betrayal of Pettigrew, James and Lily’s death, and the imprisonment of Sirius. He was the only one left of the four with the access and knowledge of it. He put it in my care should I need of it. For some time, it has been a handy tool but I try not to rely on it too much. Those darling Weasley twin’s got a hold of it from Filch’s cabinet a few years back and eventually, it made its way to you Harry.”

He nodded to confirm but felt his mouth too dry to talk.

“Naturally, it would’ve been bequeathed to you, though your years here have been fraught with dangers. I will need to know who else knows of this though, for safety reasons of course.”

He gave up Ron and Ginny, telling him that Ginny knew of it even before he did. But he didn’t trust Ron anymore, hence why it was disguised as a star chart and in Hermione’s care. They listed the other five Slytherins who only had a vague idea that there was an enchanted map she made and had never truly seen it. And when he raised his brows at the alarming amount, she came forth with the theory of Skeeter being a beetle Animagus.

“I need to keep the map.” She pleaded firmly. “I’m going to find her.”

“I never intended to take the map. But I needed to know for certain if it was your only piece of proof. I will gladly have Winky point him out to me, but we must all behave as if this is unknown. We must let them carry on with their plot if we are to put a stop to it.” He held up his hand for silence as the teens started a cacophony of protests. “Trust me, their plan will change, possibly even accelerate if it is discovered that the four of you are aware and trying to overthrow it. As long as we know that June 24th is the day of attack, there should be no further attempts on his life. Or any of yours.”

“But what about what Ron did in Defense class the other day?” Harry inquired. “Crabbe and Goyle backed him up.”

“Ah, but the three of you, among many others, stood by Hermione’s side.” Dumbledore countered. “I believe the falling out of your friendship may not tie in with Death Eater activities. Just because he mentioned chess analogies doesn’t mean it equates to Lucius’s letter.”

“How do you mean?”

“Perhaps Harry, that Ronald referred to YOU as the king to remove. Taking out the queen, Hermione, to attack you. He feels betrayed by the both of you.”

Hermione blinked several times. Why hadn’t she thought of that? She’d been solely focused as herself as the target before Malfoy suggested it might’ve been him-which made sense-but now to have Dumbledore present this possibility of Harry being the intended target was equally compelling.

“Man this is so screwed up.” Theo sighed. “Can’t we just have a normal schoolyard fight and get all this over with?”

“There’s no way my father has gotten to Weasley. Our families hate each other.” Draco stated. “He wouldn’t even throw a Knut his way, let alone trust him to do something like this. He can’t possibly know how their friendship ended. Or care. It’s preposterous!”

Hermione placed her other hand atop of Draco’s to calm him. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend…” she said softly. “It’s possible.”

Draco slumped against the back of the plush cushion and sighed. All this was just too much to handle. So many ifs. Nothing was concrete enough to prove. And without solid evidence all they could was wait. He didn’t like the idea that there was still nearly two more months of this before the day arrived and what could happen in the meantime. Unlike most kids who were counting down the last few days of school so they could get a jump onto their summer vacations and have a brief taste of freedom, it was like watching the sand pass through an hourglass held by Death himself.

He was dreading the final challenge of the tournament, the last day of school, the return home, and whatever he and the Death Eaters had in store.  
“You four shall do well to keep this all sworn in secrecy and to remain aloof about your meetings. Having them held in the lab under the guise of study sessions is brilliant, keeping the room warded and silenced too. Excellent planning. Obviously, you’re all determined, even if I said to put this nonsense to bed, I can see it in your eyes that it would be useless. Rather than try to stop you, I will aid your endeavors, and allow you to continue your training. You may continue to be the Anti-Death Eater Quartet. Snape and McGonagall shall be made aware of this as they are your heads of house and two my most trusted comrades.”

“You’re serious?” Theo snorted incredulously.

“Quite so lad. Dealing with the likes of Voldemort’s return would inevitably be a death sentence for most of us.” Theo didn’t need to told of whom. He reached over and gripped Harry’s shoulder. He’d fight to protect his friend, even if he had no idea of his secret feelings. It didn’t matter; he’d eventually find someone who would love him for who he was. But friendships were all the more precious.  
…………………………

Quiet settled over the group when they left the office and walked the halls, all the way to Hermione’s lab and unwarded it. Quieter still when Neville and Pansy quickly parted and stood up from their seated spot on the floor and flattened their hands against their clothing, smoothing out wrinkles. Blushes and cast aside glances were the only words spoken as the dark-haired couple sheepishly made their exit, holding hands with Neville giving Hermione a thankful wink on their way out.

She smiled, biting her lip with a knowing look.

You’re welcome mate.

She shifted her satchel off her shoulders, taking permanent residence inside was the map and jar for starters, and only the books she needed for class rather than the extra ones she toted around for “light reading” as well as all her standard school supplies. Once it hit the table she noticed another tear in it, poking her finger through it with a sigh. This thing was going to be more patches and thread seams than actual bag before the school’s end. Actually, having it last for four years was nothing short of a miracle. Satchels had a tendency to not live up to their warranties with her.

The guys shuffled in, closing the door behind them and passing remarks about what the previous tenants of the room were up to. It was all good-natured of course, Harry proud for Neville and the Slytherins happy for Pansy. They were a good match actually.

“You know, I was thinking….” Theo drawled thoughtfully. “The Marauders had codenames, maybe we should as well.”

Draco snorted out a laugh. “Right. Sure. Codenames.”

Hermione tapped her fingers along the table surface. 

Prongs. Padfoot. Wormtail. Moony.

James Potter. Sirius Black. Peter Pettigrew. Remus Lupin.

Marauders. 

Anti-Death Eater Squad.

“Why not?” she blurted out.

The three turned to her. Without breaking her glance away from her domed plants, she continued. “We’re a team. We may not be Animagus or werewolves, but we are all for the same cause aren’t we?” 

“Point made.” Theo shrugged. “We could base them off our Patronus.”

“No way in hell am I going to answer to Peacock.” Draco stated with an indignant huff. 

Theo and Harry couldn’t help but bust into laughs.

“Your Patronus is your father’s Animagus form. You could go by Prongs if you wanted.” Hermione offered.

He immediately shook his head. “Nah, that would feel weird. I mean, it’s not even original. I would need one of my own, but…I don’t even know what to think of.”

“How bout I give you one? Then you pick out one for me?” Theo suggested. “And the lovebirds can pick out each other’s.”

“Capital idea.” Draco piped up, sneaking right behind Hermione and tickling her sides. She yelped at the sudden attack and smacked at his hands but he continued. “What’s my nickname?” he demanded. “Hmm? Give me a nickname!”

“Insufferable git!” she shrieked as she fought back.

“You can do better than that!”

Harry and Theo started chuckling.

“Unholy terror!”

“Oooh, getting biblical are we?” he teased.

Harry leaned over to his pal. “Bet five sickles she wallops him.”

“Deal.”

“Snowflake!” she hollered.

“Oh that’s just insulting.” He admonished, really starting to dig into her.

“Stop it! Draco please!” she begged, slapping at his arms and squirming.

“Well come on then, you better answer the question.” 

“I’m…gonna…punch…you!” she huffed between breaths, raising an arm.

“Here it comes…” Harry whispered.

But Draco was ready, he’d been paying attention in their little karate lessons. He knew her punch pattern. He caught the hand that came right at him with a devilish smirk and pulled her forward. Once she met his chest he wrapped his arms around her and held her in place.

“Fierce little lion.” He smirked, rubbing her nose with his own.

“I’m gonna hurl if he keeps that up.” Theo joked.

“Ferret.” she spat, cheeks red and chest heaving from the exertion.

His brows furrowed. “Now that’s a low blow.”

“No, this is.” She replied, hooking her leg behind his knee and knocking him flat on his back with barely a second for him to let go of her and catch himself before cracking his skull against the floor. He landed with a hard thud and guttural gasp before she pounced on him and began her own tickle assault. With nearly all the wind knocked out of him he was already at a disadvantage to her ministrations and left him begging for mercy.

“Would that count as a wallop?” Theo asked, turning to Harry, olive eyes meeting emerald. He was wondering if he’d agree to the nickname Emerald when Harry brushed back his loose fringe, revealing his famous scar.

“Unless you want to pay up.” Harry grinned, enjoying the spectacle. Seeing Draco Malfoy on the losing end of a tickle fight was the highlight of his week.

“Oh hey, check out their plants!” he whispered excitedly, pulling him over to the table as the couple in mention wrestled on the floor. While obviously upright and nestled in their little pots of soil, they still wrapped their leafy stems around each other and the flower faces swayed to and fro. Theo grabbed the notebook and flipped it open to the next available page and quickly scrawled the date and small caption of ‘tickle fight’, jotting down that the plants moved in similar sequence.

“Since yours is a dog, I thought maybe…Barkley?” Harry meekly suggested with a shrug. “I mean, it sounds like a real name too so it won’t be too weird if it’s said out loud and-”  
“Harry, take a breath will ya?” Theodore laughed, setting the quill down. Despite the screams and thrashing and ruckus laughter happening not but ten feet away he felt like it was just him and Harry in the room. “Barkley doesn’t sound half bad.”

Relieved, Harry let himself grin widely, flushing ever so slightly. He’d been worried that anything he suggested might somehow be construed into an offensive slur. But seeing how Theo lit up at the name and his thought process, Harry relaxed. Last thing he needed was another fallout with someone he considered a friend. A good friend even. In the most unlikeliest of ways, somehow they’d come together and he didn’t want to let it go. He’d never be Ron, but that was exactly what he needed, someone who had known what it was like to walk in his shoes and be that kid hiding in the shadows.

“And I was thinking….” Theo slowly replied, bringing his hand up and gently touching the prominent scar on his friend’s forehead, his index finger tracing the strange lightning bolt shape with a feathery caress, watching as Harry’s eyes fluttered and half-closed, feeling that burn in his chest nearly engulf his senses like a bonfire, he said “Something hinting to this, if that’s ok?”

Neither one noticed that the peals of laughter had ended, the tickles had shifted into caresses and the proximity of their bodies had left no room for anything but the comfort of each other as Draco finally gained the upper hand and pinned her to the floor-it was certainly a well won victory-and put an end to the torture with a kiss and then collapsed on the floor beside her to catch his breath.

Draco nudged Hermione to nonchalantly look in their direction, both of them witnessing the intimate interaction. She flicked her eyes back to him, giving the slightest nod of confirmation, and she whipped her head back over with her mind’s gears working overtime, putting it all together in a matter of seconds.

Normally, Harry never let anyone touch his scar, especially after crazed fans came after him in Diagon Alley the summer after first year and tackled him, all wanting their moment with the famed Boy-Who-Lived. It was a total clusterfuck of admiration and terror, unsure of what to do except just get away from all the prying hands and screeching. He’d been lucky to have Hermione and Ron with him at the time to ward them off, but the entire situation gave him anxiety and made him weary of Colin whenever the boy popped up with his camera. Paired with the Basilisk and the Chamber and polyjuice fiasco it was one hell of a year.

But somehow, he knew Theo meant no harm. In four years of being classmates, this was the closest they’d ever been to each other, and Harry mainly let his hair overgrow just to hide the damn thing. He didn’t like the stares it induced. But it was different with Theodore Nott Jr in a way he couldn’t explain. Dare he say, he liked it? But that would be weird. Theo was just a very hands-on kind of person, had been ever since their first day paired up as potion partners.

“W-what do you have in mind?” he asked, voice wavering as he felt hot around his collar for some strange reason. His forehead instantly felt cold the moment his hand retracted. With the exception of hugs from various Weasley family members and Hermione, he rarely was touched. He observed all around him as friends of all kinds embraced in some manner; handshakes, hugs, arm slung over shoulders, shoulder pats, playful punches, tickle fights…everywhere there was a positive connection. It was something he’d never had before stepping foot onto Hogwarts and he thoroughly made the best of it while he could, for his summers felt cold and hollow without them.

He always stood in the shadows, watching as Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon showered Dudley with an overwhelming amount of affection, sparring none for him. He had tried so hard to be the good child, doing everything they ordered him to do, keeping his head down at school, trying to not make waves…but nothing was ever good enough. Their faces always contorted in anger in his presence.

“Zeus is a little pretentious, so maybe something like Bolt for simplicity sake?”

“Bolt.” Harry repeated, rolling it over his tongue. Quick like a lightning bolt. “Yeah, that sounds pretty cool.” He jutted his chin at their friends, laying in a cozy tangle of limbs, Hermione’s head resting on one of Draco’s arms like a pillow with him resting on his side, his other arm laying across her torso. They looked every bit the ideal young couple in love. His best friend and his former nemesis. What a combination.

“What bout you two?”

Draco leaned down and whispered something in her ear, earning him a playful smack to his chest along with a girlish chuckle. “Come on.” He whined, threatening to tickle her again with the telltale wiggle of his fingers in a spindly spiderlike dance.

“Ok fine.” She resigned with a sigh. “But I’m naming you, remember that.” She warned him, finger pointed at his face.

Theo made a tiny gagging sound behind Harry’s back. His sentiments exactly. These two were absolutely nauseating, but adorable. It was one of those weird things where you couldn’t stand to watch them while they were in their bubble but you couldn’t turn away because of some unknown pull to observe the rawness of it. Once their walls were down, it was a beautiful and powerful thing.

“He wants to call me Lionne, French for Lioness.” She answered with a playful nibble on her lip. “And in return, he’s going to be Smaug, the dragon from the Tolkien novel The Hobbit.” He merely puffed his chest, Harry could tell even though he was trying to be a little subtle about it, and beamed at his girlfriend. It was ridiculous. 

“Of all the dragons, I have to say, I kinda like that one.” Harry said after a moment, knowing a few from the movies he’d seen. “Well then, I guess that settles it. We all have our codenames in case we need to send a message. If the enemy could literally be anywhere, or anyone then we need to watch our backs.”

“Aye captain.” Draco sarcastically saluted with his free hand. “Now I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m starving.”  
…………………….

Lionne. 

The beast had a name. It resonated in her soul, to her very core and every fiber of her being as she felt the earth shift under her feet, soft damp dirt and wet trees, chirps of crickets and toads, hoots of owls and howls of wolves in the distance.

She was running, sprinting, flying across the expanse of land with only the moonlight to guide her. Her nose twitched with the breeze, she could smell something…enticing…and weak.

Prey.

She was running on all fours, strangely, but it felt natural. Her hands had become wide and ended in claws that tore into the soil with every leap. She felt a tail continue from the base of her spine, balancing her body as she ran, the little tuff of fur at the end tickling the wet grass in its wake. Eyes adjusted to the night, ears tall and pointed, alert for any sound, she was hunting.

The evening air flew through the tresses that extended out into a mane. Not entirely unheard of, for a female lion to grow a mane. Perhaps it was a way to maintain her identity, after all, who was Hermione Granger if she wasn’t known for her wild mass of curls?

But tonight she was not Hermione. She was Lionne. And Lionne wanted free.  
………………………

Hermione shot up from her bed with a gasp and tasted blood in her mouth. She’d bitten her own lip in her sleep, also just skimmed the side of her tongue. She groaned with the tender touch to her cheek as she felt around for further damage. If she wasn’t mistaken, her incisors felt just a tad sharper-or maybe that was an exaggeration brought on by the dream-but as she pressed her finger to them she winced. Her gums felt sensitive, like they did when a new tooth grew. 

She shook her head. Surely life with two dentists for parents made her slightly over-obsessive about her teeth but she could’ve sworn that ever since she had her teeth fixed by Madam Pomfrey that they felt slightly different. But that was to be expected right? Except it wasn’t the same teeth…

“Screw it.” She huffed, flinging the blanket off and getting to her feet. She needed to cool down; her dream run had still induced sweat and a rise in temperature in her core. She nearly tripped over Crookshanks, who chose to sleep in his proper room this evening, but sprawled out on the fur rug in the middle of the room rather than his own cat bed.   
“You have a bed!” she spat at the orange puff as she regained her equilibrium and stumbled her way through the dark hallways until she reached the common room, softly illuminated with a bit of moonlight and turned into the bathroom.

She cast a wandless verbal Minimus Lumos, just enough light to make out the basic shapes of the bathing chamber and tell the difference between the hot & cold handles. She glanced at her reflection and was startled. A step back, a gasp of breath, and some furious blinking later, she looked back. Whatever she thought she saw was no longer there. With shaking hands she turned the cold tap on and splashed herself in the face and wiped her neck.

She had marks on her neck that she could barely recall, but then again her whole morning had started out as one big memory fart where nothing seemed to add up. But reshaped pupils to that of a feline eye? Surely just a resonating part of the dream, that’s all. Just a precise, detail-oriented imagination at work making sure everything was believable, right to the very shape-and color-of her eye.

That’s what she told herself. Product of stress and imagination. Typical teenager stuff. Nothing that required a trip to the infirmary for a Draught of Dreamless Sleep or to dive into a textbook from the works of Freud and Jung. 

After all, her eyes shown up as a normal caramel brown in her reflection when she returned to her room. It was just a dream.  
………………………….


	56. Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore brings Snape and McGonagall into his confidence and all is well until Hogsmeade. It seems much hinges on this upcoming weekend, and many are making their preparations.

SUNDAY April, 30th 1995

“Absolutely not Albus!”

Snape rolled his eyes. Gryffindors and their dramatic outbursts.

“It is already done Minerva. They are mentally prepared for this, they have been for weeks. You know as well as I do there is no stopping Potter and Granger when they get their mind up to something.”

The woman bristled at her trusted colleagues’ blasé attitude regarding the safety of their wards. In a last ditch effort for support, she turned to Professor Snape.

“And are you so sure of your own godson running headlong into the fray?”

Oooh that woman knew how to play a card.

“If anything, I am more invested in their safety do to the very fact that my godson is involved.” He replied. “And if you’d bother to actually read the letter Lucius wrote to me, I have been quite aware of his intentions from the beginning. Keeping Miss Granger safe has proven to be quite the undertaking and those two have no idea of the lengths I’ve gone to protect them.”

Understatement of the year.

“That man is a depraved sonofabitch.” She vehemently spat. Oh yes, she’d seen the letter, both the original from Snape and the copy written down by Hermione. To think that he was raising his son to believe he could anything to likes of Muggleborns merely due to their blood status…it made her shudder. Thank Merlin and Morgana that Draco was not following in his father’s footsteps.

Snape shrugged at the vulgarity used to describe Lucius Malfoy. He’d seen firsthand some of the things Lucius had done in the name of the Dark Lord twenty years previous. Why Narcissa had to be paired up with such a man like that was a true sin. Part of the arrangement was made in response to her older sister running off with a muggle. They wanted to ensure Narcissa wouldn’t let the Black family down and selected the Malfoy heir to keep Voldemort supporters and family alliances strong. The woman bore her burden with a well disguised smile and the genuine love she had for her son. Unlike Bellatrix, she’d remained adamant about remaining neutral. As if she’d mar her fair skin with such an ugly mark to begin with.

“You’ve had the blessed honor of overseeing Potter and his mates in all their little adventures for the first three years, why does this shock you?”

“For one thing, it was merely an in-house matter.” She quipped. “Harry was targeted and he had two constant companions with him through it all. Now he has neither with Hermione in Slytherin and Ronald aligned with the likes of Crabbe and Goyle. Of course I’m concerned!” her tone ended shrilly.

“He still has Granger at his side. And I’ll have you know that Nott is no layabout when it comes to his studies. The kid is proficient and one of my highest ranking in his year-after Granger and Draco of course.” He added with just the barest hint of pride. Oh yes, taking McGonagall’s top ranking student was still a joy to throw in her face.

She released an exhausted sigh and threw her head back. “There is no getting through to the either of you. You’re all hell-bent to do as you see fit regardless of the dangers it brings to others.

“Calm yourself Minerva; you know I’ll not allow anything to happen to them. Harry still has to face his final task-alone-none of us can interfere on that. The others, they’ll be nearby and as will we.” Dumbledore assured as he gazed across the Quidditch pitch at the sixth year Gryffindors playing against a ragtag team of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaws with the seventh years cheering them on. “And you’ll keep us informed on what Lucius sends.” He directed at Snape.

The man nodded. “Draco will confide any further letters to me should Lucius choose to leave something out.” He didn’t trust that Lucius would be entirely forthcoming to him despite being the boy’s godfather, given that he was currently a double agent and had burned a lot bridges with most Death Eaters by taking on the role. He let them believe what they wanted, being close to Dumbledore was the best way to gather what intel Voldemort had requested from him at the time. It wasn’t the best life to live, but he had nothing else with Lily dead, Narcissa married to a monster, and some of his former colleagues either dead or publically shamed. He hoped that the potion he’d been working on for the better part of ten years would provide a cure for Remus, and at least that man could have his life back.

Dumbledore made his mind to inform both Remus and the sequestered away Sirius Black, hiding away in his old home no less, recruiting them into the mix and to stand ready when they should be called to action. Sirius couldn’t risk being seen yet, and with Remus outed with his lycanthropy known it was near impossible for him to find work. Neither one could be caught on the school grounds. But Hogsmeade was a whole other matter.

The man contacted his brother, Aberforth, who ran the Hog's Head Inn, requesting that a room be set aside for the men should they make an appearance. He’d cover their expenses of course, enticing the offer to his brother. After all, the man had a business to run. The discussion by Floo was secure and brief; the brothers had long ago developed their own language with few words but with deeper, hidden meanings. Snape had to applaud Albus for his ability to play puppet master so well. It was one such ability that made him feared by young Tom Riddle in his youth, even into his rise to power. Even without Riddle back in the flesh, his followers had still corralled in order to bring him back, and they were sorely mistaken if they didn’t anticipate some sort of counter attack. 

In truth, he feared for the safety of Draco. The boy should’ve in no way been involved with this but had foolhardy fallen in love with the enemy and aligned himself to her, and thus the very target that his father was set out to destroy. They kill Potter for sure, leaving no room for doubt. They’d kill Granger just for sport, and do it in front of Draco to teach him a lesson. Hell, maybe even force him to do it himself. Whether he liked it or not, it was his duty to see to the well-being of his students, and he’d be damned if he’d let history repeat.

Draco didn’t need to suffer the life he himself was already living.

It took much coaxing and convincing but finally Minerva finally stopped barking her upmost aversement to the plan. Damn Gryffindor stubbornness, she just needed to concede the fact that she had headstrong students unwilling to let their lives be controlled by others. Not their typical run-of-the-mill students either. And given the history Potter already had with Granger, and Granger’s third year time-turner deal, they were more than capable at handling danger. It was a little bit of faith with hard fact, but it was undeniable.

Better they were prepared and anticipating the danger than caught unawares.  
………………………..

Draco leaned against the bark of the young willow, legs crossed, Hermione’s head resting in his lap like he was a pillow as she held a book in her hands, reading out the poetic passages. They’d spent the morning with more karate moves after a package arrived from her parents, gently dropped off by Ulysses, large and curious invoking. When she opened it she gleefully squealed at the sight of the hand cranked record player.

She’d informed her parents after fist arriving at Hogwarts that electronic devices failed to perform due to the overwhelming magical aura of the land, and that they were many miles from the nearest muggle establishment and powerlines. So her parents had gone antiquing and finally found an old Fleetwood Crank Phonograph for a decent price and informed her that they’d need her boyfriend’s owl to deliver it. Along with it were about a dozen of her favorite records tucked into the sleeve pocket.

The boys gathered around as she opened it up and demonstrated how it worked and soon found themselves taking turns dancing with her as she spun around to her beloved collection of music. Her parents promised to send more of her records now that they had a viable way to deliver said items. It had been quite the joyful morning.

Now that it was after lunch, Draco took Hermione to their spot and were enjoying the beautiful spring day. Free from karate, free from plotting, free from all of it for just the afternoon. Yesterday had been emotionally draining and terrifying in Dumbledore’s office, coming clean with it all and praying to Merlin that it was enough. He was picking nearby dandelions and tucking them into her hair as she read, trying to see how many he could get in there before she noticed. She knew of course, but wasn’t letting on. Just because her hair was thick and unruly didn’t mean she didn’t feel the thin little stems glance across her scalp as he shifted them in.

She’d just concluded with another sonnet and laid the book open-faced down on her chest and tilted her chin upwards. “Why the Sonnets?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I figured it was as good as any place to start when it came to Shakespeare. Wasn’t sure if you were a romance or tragedy fan.”

“Have you read them all?”

“Of course.” He answered. “We have original first editions protected with status charms in the library. My ancestors knew the importance of his work and how it was impacting both muggles and wizards alike. I have my own set in my room, high quality reproductions meant to be handled.”

She let a little snort. He just had to add “high quality”.

“So…you know where my name comes from then…” she said slowly, wondering what he thought of the character from A Winter’s Tale.

“The first time I heard your name, I immediately thought of it. Hence why I thought you were a half-blood when we met. Quite a few magical families took inspiration from his works to name their children. But honestly, I’ve never met a Hermione before.” 

She smiled. She’d never met a Draco before either.

“And you never thought any muggles would?”

“I’m pretty sure it goes without saying what my opinion of muggles were back then.” He replied with a guilt-laden voice. Not his finest moment. He was secretly grateful she didn’t ask what his opinion of them now because he wasn’t sure any answered he’d give would’ve been adequate enough.

“So, if you figured out I was named for one of his characters, why did you assume I didn’t have a copy of his sonnets?”

He leaned his head back against the tree. “Again, I don’t know. Didn’t know. And I was not going to ask and let on that I was intending to get you a gift. It would’ve spoiled the surprise.”

“Draco, it’s perfectly fine to inquire about my likes without running off to go buy it the next day.” She smiled softly and took one of his hands. They interlaced their fingers. “I might just ask you what things you like, just so I know, not that I’m planning to get it. Not to mention, that you probably already own it.” She laughed.

“I’m going to be impossible to shop for.” He warned.

“I’m not going shopping for you.” She automatically countered. “After all, I seem to recall a curious wizard wanting me to make him something.”

“Like those bracelets you made for all your girlfriends?”

She nodded. She finished the last of them and asked his opinion about the one for Pansy. He confirmed she’d love it, inspecting the unicorn charm up close and seeing the finely braided cords weaved together as one. “A friendship bracelet eh? Interesting. Does that mean they have to all make you one in return?” he had asked.

“I can’t wait.” He happily replied, already counting the days to his birthday and wondering how he was going to spend it with her. Just a month and five days.  
………………………….

“These pictures are amazing!” Colin cheerfully praised, looking over the bundle that Angelica had set out. He loved the ones taken during their picnic.

“That.” He pointed. “That’s definitely got to go into the book. It’s perfect.”

“I like this one too.” She said, holding up his not-so crisp looking image of Potter and Malfoy sitting beside each other at the Slytherin table.

“Oh come, I was in such a rush that I fumbled the focus.” He blanched, not really all that pleased with its result.

“There’s a certain charm to it. Plus, it’s literally the only one time we’ve seen the two of them together like this. It has to go in, blurred or not.”

“If you say so.” He shrugged.

“I do say so.” She quipped. “It’ll be a perfect example of inter-house unity, especially for this year. You got a good one of Diggory diving into the lake. The girls will go crazy for it.”

Angelina knew that Cho was one heck of a lucky witch with a handsome wizard like him for her boyfriend, now risen in popularity thanks to being one of the champions for Hogwarts. She was trying to make it fair since Skeeter had brushed Diggory aside so blatantly in her articles, so any picture of Harry that she selected was always one of him with someone. Him spending more time with the Slytherin boys had provided plenty of camera candy and she couldn’t be happier with the results.

Her personal favorite was of Hermione and Draco in the Great Hall after she’d read out loud from her book. She’d never seen that boy so dazzled and behave so sweetly before. But such a tender moment like that was not meant for the likes of a school yearbook, pity. Perhaps they might agree to it, but she didn’t have her hopes up. Skeeter had done plenty of damage this year-and to think she’d actually once looked up the woman as inspiration when she wanted to be a journalist!

“Well, that’s it for now, we still have to save room for the third challenge.” She concluded in the meeting with the other yearbook members and volunteers. Edna and her gathered up the rest of the photos and tucked them away for later viewing. One thing about yearbook was that a picture you took a month ago and hated could suddenly become the favorite when the time came for publication.

“Thanks for skipping Quidditch practice for this.” Edna said as Angelina gathered up her own personal pictures and copies thereof. She intended for them to have their own copy of that special moment.

“Sure thing. Can’t wait to see this all put together when we’re done.”  
…………………………

Harry had been corresponding with Sirius and Remus by owl ever since Dumbledore’s intervention, giving poor Hedwig a run for her money by flying for the better part of an hour before they all agreed it would be best to meet in Hogsmeade and explain everything in person. He did mention that he’d be bringing a friend and then clarified that it was not in fact Ron that would attending but Theodore Nott.

Oh that response did not go over well at first, but over the course of the past month he’d written that things between him and Ron had soured-leaving out the strangling incident-and assured his godfather that Nott had been by his side through everything. It was just better if he brought him in person and for them to meet. He worried that the old Gryffindor vs Slytherin prejudice was going to be the biggest hurdle to overcome.

Theo was working diligently on his painting, adding in the highlights to the strands of Harry’s raven black hair with thin lines of midnight blue and a touch of grey. “You know, I’m totally fine if they don’t want to meet me. I get it; I’m a big bad Slytherin in their eyes.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Bollocks it isn’t.”

Harry scrunched his lip and leaned his head back against the wall. “Sirius has spent thirteen years in prison; he hasn’t got the chance to be in my life in any way. He’s naturally wary of anyone I’m around. Last year he knew I was best mates with Ron and Hermione, and now, it’s a total 180 for him.”

“Which I get.” Theo said tightly. He did, just didn’t mean it lessened the sting.

“Look, everyone needs to get over the old rivalries and get along, especially if they’re gonna play any part of my life. So they’re gonna have to suck it up because you’re coming. You’re going to show them that you’re my friend.” Harry passionately decreed to Theo’s delight.

“Ok, if you’re going to twist my arm about it.” The artist laughed as he continued his work.  
……………………..

MONDAY May 1st, 1995

Morning was normal. Breakfast at the table, friends talking and owls delivering letters. All was as it should be. But Slytherins knew better. There was a wary eye cast, and a careful thought before a word was spoken. Skeeter could be anywhere. Moody wasn’t Moody (for only those who knew), and there was still contention between certain Gryffindors and Slytherins, a few rude or suggestive hand gestures thrown up just to clarify their undying love for the other.

A few comments about their feisty cat fight had people placing bets that Granger would’ve won had the professors not intervened, and others thinking that Ron and Lav had it in the bag because of the odds. Either way, it made for entertaining conversation.

Angelina had selected a school issued owl to deliver the bundle of photographs to Hermione since going to her outright might spark some more unrest among her housemates, and she’d honestly had enough of it to last her til the end of the school year. Wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with a silky pink ribbon, the light package was plopped right in front of her with a flutter of wings, the scrawl on the front simply reading: To HG from AJ.

Hermione’s head snapped up in the direction of the Gryffindor table, over in the section where the fifth years sat and met the smiling gaze of Johnson as she leaned lovingly on Fred’s shoulder. She waggled her fingers in a playful manner, indicating that whatever she sent was safe. There was no doubt in her mind as to what the package was, she knew Angelina carried a camera when she didn’t have a broomstick in her hand, heck, sometimes she had both in order to get those candid shots of Quidditch members in flight. So far as she knew, Angelina Johnson was the only Quidditch player capable of playing her position while wielding a camera in the other hand.

Unwrapping it quickly, she broke into a grin at the sight of the familiar moments from the month prior. Sensing her excitement those nearest started leaning over to see as she flipped through the images, not even waiting for the time loop enchantment to finish playing out before going on to the next, old habit from living with muggle tech most of her life, growing up with still frames.

Ginny and Luna braiding each other’s hair, Blaise chasing after the basket of sweets, Neville sitting nervously next to Pansy, her leaning against Draco as she sipped the tea to sooth her throat…what a wonderful day that was. Then came moments she hadn’t been aware of, and her eyes widened. Alarmed, Draco immediately pushed against her and nearly dove under her chin to see the photograph. When he saw, he knew why she reacted so. He wasn’t aware Angelina had even been in the Great Hall at that moment, let alone with her camera, and what she captured.

They both shot their heads in her direction, she merely mouthing a silent “You’re Welcome.” to the two of them. And there was an extra, Hermione noted, handing it over to Draco. They both held their individual picture in their hands, watching the loop as Draco told her she was beautiful right before leaning in for that gentle brush of lips onto her own.

“Well you’re either the genuine article or the world’s greatest actor.” Blaise said, leaning over Draco’s shoulder. The advantage of height played in his favor even after the blond shook him off.

“If you want the ability to continue chewing your food, you’d better not suggest the latter.” He growled menacingly. He’d had enough of being doubted about the nature of his feelings, even if his friend was joking. 

“Have some coffee will ya?” Blaise chided, pushing a mug toward the testy teen wizard. It somehow continued to slip his mind just how fiery the dragon could be in the morning.  
Draco picked up the pink ribbon that had bound the pack of photos. “Did you want this?” he asked Hermione. She shook her head, ribbons weren’t her thing. Not to mention, they weren’t strong enough to hold up in her hair. “Thank you.” He said, abruptly getting up from his spot on the bench. “I have something to do.” and with that, he left them.

Hermione gathered up the remaining pictures and tucked them into her satchel. She was looking forward to Transfiguration, Charms, History, and Herbology today. Classes she could easily do her work and with professors she could trust. She bid adieu to Harry and Neville as she bunched up with her Slytherin mates, trusting that whatever Draco was doing that it wouldn’t cause him to be late.  
………………………

Brunch was a quiet affair at Malfoy Manor, as it was most every meal. Especially since it was the two of them. And even especially since Snape’s letters to them had made certain events known. A palpable tension had hovered in the air whenever they were in the same room, which happened to only be during mealtimes. 

Narcissa kept her true tongue silenced and merely nodded along to Lucius’s rants about their son’s stupidity and the dangers of his game with the Mudblood until it dawned on him that by luring her in close, he’d get closer to Potter and possibly earn the boy’s trust.

“Perhaps I had been hasty in my opinion of him.” Lucius replied, closest to an apology as would ever come from his mouth. “He is putting that Malfoy intelligence to use after all these years.”

Narcissa lifted the teacup to her lips to hide her displeasured grimace. 

“Well, I’m off.” He announced, setting the paper down. “Skeeter’s playing with fire with this libel. I won’t be surprised if the likes of Greengrass or Nott hex her within an inch of her life. Least we know our boy has his eyes on the big picture and that this little act will come to an end soon.”

“His birthday befalls on a Monday.” She stated dryly. “We shouldn’t pull him from school just to have cake with us. Not quite the entertaining venue without all his friends around.”

“And what’s wrong with the weekend beforehand?”

“Hogsmeade. You know half the school will be there. And the other half will be off doing whatever they please, possibly out of the country. Even if we wanted the lavish party, not everyone we invite may attend. Let him have this one at the school.”

His nostrils flared with just the barest hint of indignation. Draco’s birthday would be a perfect opportunity to gather more followers without raising suspicion. 

“After all,” she continued in her poetic lilt, “He’ll have to invite his darling little Pet to keep up appearances. It would only raise suspicion if he left her behind and we know that where she goes, Potter would as well. Do you honestly think you keep contain your fellow men to not come at the boy while under our very roof? Greyback is hardly civil even under a new moon. Not to mention the contention with Pettigrew.”

He tented his fingers, tapping the indexes to meet as he considered his wife’s words. She did have a point, he unfortunately had to admit. He honestly knew without a doubt that if Pettigrew and Potter were to cross paths that it would be bloodshed and everything would be ruined.

“Point succinctly made.” He conceded. “The meeting will have to take place another day then.” He stepped over to her and patted her shoulder as if she were a child who’d done well with a task. “Every now and then you never cease to amaze me my dear. Good job.”

She reached up and gently patted the hand that rested on her shoulder. “Of course dearest, after all, we are from two strong pureblood lineages.” Anything that placated to his ego, she thought. His madness had made him see little else. “Do enjoy your afternoon, give Reginald my regards.”

“I shall. He has much to consider if Little Pansy is truly seeking out that Gryffindor Longbottom.” He replied as if there was a bitter taste on his tongue. Parkinson would be better suited with another Slytherin in the Sacred 28 if not with his own son but Draco had made it quite clear the girl was too much like a sister to wed. Such was one of the drawbacks of raising the children so close together.

“Just be glad it isn’t a Weasley.” She commented with a laugh, just to ease his musings. Honestly she found no fault with the match despite the difference in social standing. Parkinson had enough dowry and inheritance that she didn’t need the likes of theirs or Nott’s. Draco had informed her of all it in their time in Dumbledore’s office, things he couldn’t risk in a letter or Floo call.

“Yes, by Salazar that is by far the worst that could happen. Merlin!” he shuddered as if repulsed by the very notion of a red-haired Parkinson/Weasley child. He made his exit thereafter, giving Narcissa the breathing room she had been withholding during that entire conversation. She hadn’t needed to pretend so hard in years, back when all this Death Eater business was new to her and just as horrific then as it was now. It tore at her to see her sister Bellatrix lose her sanity with the lustful admiration she had for Voldemort and how their beliefs were becoming twisted into something fanatical.

Taking another sip of now tepid tea to settle her nerves, she nearly dropped the cup when Ulysses came into view, tapping at the nearest window. She sprung to her feet and flung the window open, holding her breath as the mighty eagle-owl flew in and perched himself on the back of one of the ornate chairs in the tea room. He held an envelope in one outstretched clawed foot. Concern was first and foremost of her emotions, after all, it had only been days since she’d spoken to her son and left him contemplative.  
She noticed a pale pink ribbon bound around the envelope, which set off an alarm in her mind. The envelope wasn’t even sealed with his personal crest, which meant this had been sent in haste. She undid the ribbon from the bird’s foot first, noticing writing on the silken band. Curious, she held onto it as she opened the flap and removed a photograph.

The gasp that escaped her throat made her all the more gladder that Lucius had already left for the day. There would’ve been no hiding this from him if that outburst had happened. It was beautiful. Simply beautiful. Her son gazing upon a lovely witch with fantastic curls, holding a book of Shakespeare’s sonnets as the words “You’re Beautiful.” passed his lips before he kissed her. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind that what he felt, what he had felt for years was real. 

She brought her hand to her mouth the stifle back the cry that was building up, feeling the ribbon tickle her chin and reminding her of its existence. Immediately she straightened it out, finding a short and simple message quickly quilled and hastily dried before it was tied around the envelope.

~R&J by WS, lines 74-78~

A code that Narcissa had taught him for sending messages between friends in school, should the note be intersected. List the title of a book, its author, and then a hint to its passage, whether chapter or page number or simple line of a play, such as this. Short and sweet and easily overlooked due to the small writing. She darted to the manor library and went straight towards the enchanted book on a podium by the entrance, an index of all the works collected within. Checking by author, she ran a finger down the line of all the WS names, muggle and wizard alike, and then through the list of their works.

Romeo and Juliet, by William Shakespeare. 

Lines 74-78:

Juliet: “O Romeo, Romeo,  
Wherefore art thou Romeo?  
Deny thy father and refuse thy name,  
Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,  
And I’ll no longer be a Capulet.”

“Oh Draco…” she murmured, her fingers grazing over the page in the antique book as if he had written them himself. He had finally come to a conclusion, finally stepping out from the shadow of his father. It was what she had hoped for, prayed for even that evening and every one since returning from the castle, and one she had already made preparations to receive.

For years, in all the ones since Draco started attending Hogwarts and the early ones of their marriage, she’d dealt with the horrible hovering dread of the Dark Lord and the possibilities of his reign. Anyone considered a blood traitor would be killed, i.e. her sister Andromeda. Anyone Muggleborn was considered filth to be abused and enslaved, treated less than human. Muggles themselves were an affront to their senses to be slaughtered in target practice. She had to nod her head and agree to whatever Lucius, Bellatrix, and the others like Dolohov said in order to stave off any suspicions they might have of her own personal beliefs.

She managed to convince them that she didn’t have the stomach for such talk, such vulgarity and could never participate in the bloodshed due to her delicate constitution. In truth she didn’t, but she’d sit in on occasional conversations that arose after dinners, tumblers of firewhiskey in everyone’s hands, laughing it up like they were discussing Quidditch teams. Through it all, she collected vital information in the form of memories she saved. She watched helplessly as Lucius dug his claws into Draco as soon as the boy could walk, presenting himself as some kind of high commander, twisting Draco’s mind on everything she taught him.

When Lucius was away on business she’d undo the damage only for the cycle to repeat itself upon his return. He was raised every bit the gentleman of his class, how to speak eloquently, how he carried himself, danced, respected his elders and all women, and yet, Lucius encouraged him to spit vitriol at those he felt were lesser than themselves-which was damn near everyone-and that they were above the law. That a Malfoy man could have anything he wanted, no price was too steep, and anyone could be bought or commanded. The result was now an emotionally confused young man struggling to uphold family pride and following his heart.

She knew if she had just plainly said; Draco, forget about your father, throw him to the wolves and run away with the girl, that he would. He would obey because he’d been raised to do so. But in time that blind obedience would eventually lead to resentment. He needed to make this decision on his own. A heavy burden to place on the shoulders on a boy just one month shy of turning fifteen, but events were moving far too quickly now to wait for him to grow into a more mature young man.

Now was the time.

She settled herself into the writing desk and pulled out a sheaf of parchment and began penning a letter.  
………………………..

“Headmaster, a word?” Severus called, shortly before dinner was underway; he motioned with a hand signal that he had a letter to share. Students milled about in the halls, eager to set aside their satchels and robes and chow down.

Dumbledore inclined his head, acknowledging the request. They’d speak after the meal in confidence. Conversations couldn’t be held out in the open with suspicion of a stalking Skeeter-beetle about. Up in his office, room secure and portraits shuttered away, Professor Snape produced the letter he’d received from Narcissa, along with a safely packed vial of memories.

She trusted Snape. Snape trusted Dumbledore. It was a natural transition.  
……………………..

Hermione stood in front of her makeshift clothing rack, mulling over her choices of casual clothing, wondering what she should wear for her first date coming up in just a few days’ time. Normally, going to Hogsmeade was a casual affair, even a group gathering, clothing didn’t matter. Jeans, shorts, tee-shirts or jumpers, it didn’t matter. But a date. A date with a boyfriend. Now that was different. Worlds different. Draco would be dressed well, as usual, and anything less than semi-formal would make him look overdressed for the occasion. But all she had were two dresses: the floral she wore to the party and the rosy pink evening gown for Yule.

Obviously, the yule would be considered too much, being floor length-it would drag along the ground and get muddy-and the floral seemed the preferred choice, it was just the right length and style, even matching in tune with the season. But for some reason her eye kept darting back to the Christmas dress. It was what she was wearing when Draco first approached her and let his walls down, gave her a taste of his unbidden self, and slipped into her mind and nestled there to germinate from the weed that never died into a blossoming garden of moonflowers, perfuming her senses every time she was around him.

She felt pulled towards to the blushy ball gown despite all the reasons not to be. 

It would need to be shorter…altered…but was it wrong to want to wear this dress, just for him?  
…………………………

The week dragged for the students, since everyone was so eager to see the weekend more so than the usual. Everyone had their own reasons, naturally involving Hogsmeade but as it was now closer to the end of school any day away from the constant reminder of upcoming O.W.L.S. and N.E.W.T.S. and beginning preparations for the upcoming study sessions therein was a welcome reprieve. 

Each day, Hermione corresponded with her mother and carefully cut inches away at the hem of the flouncy, ombre pink gown, trusting to do it by hand rather than with magic. She knew whatever she did was going to be permanent and had made peace with it. After all, when would there be another Yule ball, or any ball in general? She’d probably have a growth spurt-hopefully with inches in height this time!-and by then the dress wouldn’t fit. So, turning it into a semi-formal day dress was just a way to stretch out another opportunity to wear it.

She made sure to keep what she was doing secret. Draco would probably flip if he discovered she was cutting up the lovely dress. She wouldn’t be surprised if he insisted to purchase her a brand new one but she couldn’t accept something like that. Not for a first date to Hogsmeade. But alas, despite her best efforts, Slytherins still had a way of finding out a secret.

Leave it to Pansy to become a bloodhound and sniff out the actions of a girl trying to prepare for her first date all by herself.

She charged in-welcomed in, but entered the room like a witch on a mission-and sussed out the treachery Hermione had performed on her lovely Yule dress like she had been guided with Seer Sight and nearly gasped herself unconscious at the discovery. Once recovering her senses she inhaled, shook her limbs loose and whispered “It’s ok, it’s ok…” like a mantra for a few seconds.

Hermione thought she was being just a tad dramatic but allowed Pansy to set to work. She donned the dress and stood on her desk chair as Pansy took measurements and swished her wand, pointing it at the uneven hemline and securing the seams with precision. She shortened the bow and its trailing ribbons at her waistline to accommodate the skirts’ shorter length and began new neckline trimming, removed the sheer shoulder draping sleeves and took a step back to admire her work.

“Blaise told me that as soon as Draco told him and Theo that he was taking you to Hogsmeade, that he owled his mother and has sent for some superb Italian sourced hair products that are going to make your hair become heavenly.” She boasted, her voice dipping low to emphasize the importance of the imported products with a little hint of envy for good measure. “Draco is going to just burrow into your hair and never come out like the little ferret he is.”

Hermione busted into a giggle fit over that one.

“But honestly, cutting up your yule dress?” she tsked.

After Hermione explained her rational and then sentimental reasons for doing it Pansy softened like melted butter. All the sharp edges of the Parkinson persona came to a grinding halt and she placed her hands over her heart, taking a moment to soak it all in. “You truly are so good for him.” She replied, fully content and just in love with the way this girl cared for her friend. “Honestly Hermione…he’s lucky to have you.”

Hermione felt her lips waver between a smile at the compliment and a frown for the words not said…

“What about me?” she asked, unable to stop herself.

Pansy’s face took on a most Cheshire Cat look she’d ever seen. “You should already know.”

“But I don’t.” she replied honestly, stepping down from the chair. “One day he’s an absolute sweetheart, but the next he can be so haughty and off-putting and boorish. It’s like he’s two complete different people in one body.”

“He’s a Gemini, what’dya expect?” the ravenette joked. She was used to the mercurial moods of her childhood friend because she knew how to counter them. Sometimes it required catering to his ego, sometimes it needed to be met with a force stronger than his own, and on the rare occasion it was tempered with affection. It merely depended on what was the cause for his mood of the day.

“If astrological signs dictated all aspects of our lives then I’d end up a nun in a convent!” Hermione hotly retorted. Pansy motioned for her to turn around and began unzipping the back of the new and improved Hogsmeade date dress.

“Well then let him prove that he is the wizard for you. And don’t take offense if he orders your meal for you. It’s an old-fashioned sense of good manners and proof of how well your wizard knows you.”

“But he doesn’t…I mean, how would he know my dietary preferences?”

Pansy chided her with an “Ah ah ah.” and a finger wag. “Just allow him to express himself in the way he knows how.”

After Hermione slipped out of the dress, clad in bra and knickers, Pansy hung the dress on its hanger and tucked it safely within the confines of the her meager wardrobe. Hermione grabbed her comfy, size L sleeping shirt that was actually one of her father’s favorite shirts that he didn’t mind losing and slung it over her head and popped her arms through the sleeve holes. Pansy’s face when she turned around and saw it was priceless.

“Granger! What the hell is that?” she nearly shrieked, pointing at the naked air-bone angel against an orange sky.

“Oh this?” she asked, pulling at to get a better look. “One of my dad’s old band shirts.”

“It’s. A. Naked. Maaaan.” She sharply pronounced with a bite to each syllable. 

“Angel. Technically genderless. Trust me, he wouldn’t have let me wear it if it had a penis.” She clarified.

“Merlin Granger, do all Muggles go about wearing vulgar things like this?”

Hermione had to contain herself. Seeing album artwork and tee shirt reproductions from the generation prior was nothing new to her. There were far more offensive things people wore out there. “This isn’t bad, all things considering. Trust me, you hear their greatest hits and you’ll be seeing angels in your mind.”

“Ok, whatever weirdo.” Pansy laughed, clearly not convinced but giggling nonetheless. “Get some beauty sleep, not that you need it.”  
……………………


	57. Hogsmeade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The highly anticipated first date has arrived. 
> 
> *Ravenpuff - A Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff couple
> 
> *Slytherndor - A Slytherin and Gryffindor couple
> 
> Will there be a Slytheraven couple? (a Slytherin and Ravenclaw) stay tuned!

SATURDAY, May 6th, 1995

Before she knew it, Hermione was roused from her slumber with enthusiastic banging on her bedroom door from two different persons. She could tell from the interwoven, erratic knocking patterns and distinct voices of one male and one female practically singing her name.

“Jesus Christ.” She sighed, brushing curls and cat fur out of her face.

She crawled out of bed and flung open the door, looking like some haggard witch from Hollywood’s cinema, hair in writhing tangles and cat fur clinging to her Led Zeppelin shirt to be greeted with the frighteningly cheery faces of Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. Well, if she was going to be tortured, it might as well be served with a smile, she thought, taking the Westley/Dread Pirate Roberts mentality to it.

“Merlin’s saggy sac Granger, what is that you’re wearing?” Blaise cried, adverting his eyes from her shirt.

Again?

“Can you guys set aside your uptight pureblood tastes in my perfectly adequate muggle clothing or must I change in order to appease your senses?”

“Change!” they both cried in unison.

Freaking gladly if it’ll get everyone to shut the bloody hell up.

A few minutes later, in jeans and a regular plain black tee shirt (because heaven forbid they have a problem with My Little Pony! “Unicorns are not THAT color” she could just imagine Pansy shrieking in their defense) she opened the door and watched helplessly as the duo carted in all sorts of products. “Can’t this wait until after breakfast?” she grumbled.

“No.” Blaise firmly answered. “Should’ve gotten a jump on it last night but blast it all if it took a full bloody day to find this little beauty,” he held up an enticing green bottle, “and thus set delivery back a whole day. Stuff only just arrived this morning and I’mma need every minute I can get if I’m to save that hair. Prince Malfoy will just have to wait or heaven forbid, dine without you for once.”

She plopped into her chair. Merlin what was she getting into?  
……………………….

“Forget it mate, Granger’s a goner. Blaise will never let you disrupt his beauty regime just so you can make googly eyes at her over toast and jam.” Theo sighed, dragging the reluctant blond out of the common room on their way to the table to dine with their remaining Slytherin/Gryffindor companions.

“Not like you won’t be seeing her later and in all her curly-haired glory later.” He added. After all, it was a whole day, a whole weekend in fact. Couldn’t Draco go a whole hour without her presence in order to prepare?

“Do you think I overdid it?” he asked, pulling at his dress jacket for Theo’s approval. “I keep trying to tell myself to dress casual but I don’t really ‘do casual’ and I don’t want to send the wrong message.”

Theo rolled his eyes heavenward. “Merlin’s beard Draco, when have you ever questioned your sense of fashion and attire? It’s Granger we’re talking about; she wouldn’t care if you wore your Quidditch kit as long as you were appropriately covered.”

“That’s what I’m worried about!”

Theo grabbed Draco by the shoulders and gave him a bit of a shove into the wall, shaking him so the startled grey eyes met his own. “Quit being such a Hufflepuff about this! I can’t believe you’re losing your cool over an afternoon with her! I mean come on, you two have been snogging every spare moment you can get, you don’t need to impress her with a suit!”

A silent lull hovered over them before Theo’s eyes widened to a degree that only could emphasize he’d had an epiphany. “Oh my wand, you’re nervous about this? With her?”

“Shhh!” Draco hissed, pushing his friend out of his personal space. “Yes ok! Happy now? I don’t know what’s wrong with me…”

But Theodore Nott had a pretty good guess. He knew because it was a feeling he’d been wrestling with for the better part of a month and then some if he had to be honest, he’d kind of admired the Boy Wonder from afar a while this year since he couldn’t approach Michael anymore. And while he knew Harry didn’t feel the same way, he selfishly took the little touches that he’d allowed. It only made him curiouser as to what else he could get away with before it was blatantly obvious what his intentions were.

Draco didn’t have to worry about being rejected, given looks of disgust, or treated like a pariah. Oh sure, whom he had chosen to give his heart to was certainly not of the approved variety, but it was still considered “normal”. Being like him though, it was just becoming a vaguely approved of thing to a certain degree. 

Theo patted Draco on the back as they’d moved away from the wall and continued down the corridor. “Drake, you’re only nervous because you like her. It wasn’t the same with Pansy and you both knew that. And it was more or less a curtesy when you took Daphne out. But this is different because it’s real. Because what you feel is real.”

“Wow mate, when you put it like that…” Draco let out a heavy breath.

“Yeah, well I’m pretty observant.” his buddy boasted. “You don’t have to impress her you know. She’s already here.”

Draco immediately whipped his head back to see and heard his friend chuckle. “Not like that you idiot!”

Shaking his head with a growl in his throat, Draco stormed ahead to the table and plopped down heavily. He needed his morning dark roast laden with sugar and cream, milky enough to match his hair. Not such dark a roast now. He listened to the chatter all around him; everyone had a plan for the day. Even Neville was treating Pansy once she finished helping Hermione get ready. Tracey couldn’t stop gushing about Goldstein and thanking Harry every other sentence. Harry in return just humbly tipped his head and continued his meal. He noticed both he and Theo were being quiet, but then again the girls were being pretty dominant in their conversing.

“If there’s one thing I don’t want to see, it’s them.” Daphne sneered and jutted her chin off towards the Gryffindor table where it was obvious that Ron and Lavender already couldn’t wait for Hogsmeade to find a place to make out with their grossly lavish display of affection as she fiddled with her signature letter D necklace on a silver chain.

“God those two…” Harry shuddered. He could practically hear their sloppy kisses from across the room. Thank goodness McGonagall tapped them firmly on the shoulders and made them sit two whole feet apart and kept a stern eye on them for the duration of the meal time.

“What a slag.” Millicent stated with a pitying shake of her head. “I certainly hope that between the two of them there’s enough brain cells that remind them to cast a contraceptive charm since we know both are utter rubbish at potions.”

Ron’s mouth was as open as Lavender’s legs according to the gossip mill.

“There’s a contraceptive potion?” Harry asked, bewildered at the very notion.

“Oh please tell me you know that.” Millie admonished with disdain.

He shrugged. “Course. I mean…not that I’ve ever…But I wouldn’t know what…” his voice started faltering the further along he went until he gave up. “Ok, no. I haven’t exactly been given ‘the talk’ if you know what I mean. The Dursley’s neglect to tell me a lot of things that every teen ought to know.”

“Well heaven forbid you ever are in need of it.” Tracey added, followed by the immediate stuttering and choking of Theo on his pumpkin juice. He pounded on his chest, proclaiming it went down the wrong tube and he’d be fine in a moment.

“That doesn’t mean I haven’t clued a few things together. Fred and George hinted at some things over the summer.”

“Oh like you need lessons on fornication from a family that breeds like rabbits.” Draco scoffed. “Or more like weasels.”

“They’d certainly know, wouldn’t they?” Tracey laughed, slapping the table. It did get a good chuckle from mostly everyone else. That’s when Draco noticed how quiet Neville was being, and had been for most of the time.

“Date jitters?” Theo asked him.

Neville nodded to Draco’s relief. At least he wasn’t the only one. Guess it was a more common thing than he thought, and not because of how much he’d been envisioning all the possible scenarios, good and bad. How did the phrase go? Hope for the best, but expect the worst? But as someone who had technically dated Pansy Parkinson, at least Draco could ease the nerves of the apprehensive Gryffindor. After a while of discussing the sleek haired witch he began to feel his own trepidations subside. He still had no idea how to differentiate his behavior towards Hermione than he would with any pureblood witch but he was going to try. It couldn’t be that difficult right?  
……………………..

“You’re enjoying this too much.” Hermione hissed as she felt like her head was going to split in half with both sides being brushed and pulled on by Pansy and Blaise. She endured the concoctions poured and massaged in, almost crooning at the scalpal ministrations until it began to tingle and smell a little off putting.

Only after it was wrapped in a towel and piled high on her head was she allowed to eat, but was restricted to something that didn’t require her to tilt her head down. A plate of fruit and some toast was brought in by a sweet little Winky, cleaned up both physically and soberly. Hermione wanted to come out and ask her if she’d helped Dumbledore identify Crouch, but present company prevented her from that urge.

While her hair was cocooned and soaking in the miracle liquid Blaise sang its praise on, her feet were placed in a little tub to soak and then he set to work on her pedicure.  
“I must say, I never pegged you for being so knowledgeable about women’s health and beauty treatments.”

Blaise released a haughty laugh. “Oh little leonessa, so little you know.” He tossed her a sly look. “My mother is a world renowned model with looks to rival Queen Nefertiti-and if you think I’m exaggerating you should see her Egyptian themed photo shoot from 1985. She has taught me everything there is to know about turning a sow’s ear into a silk purse.”

“Are you calling me a pig Zabini?” she mocked indignation.

“Oh never.” he proclaimed, buffing her toenails over while carefully cradling her heel in his hand. “I’ve seen what you can do to those who look at you wrong and I don’t want to be on the receiving end of that. But you have always been a project I’ve wanted to get my hands on.”

“Beg your pardon?”

He delighted in her reaction. “Your hair alone screamed for my attention. I would’ve gladly fixed you up for Yule, just to show off my prowess ‘cuz these wild curls have just begged for taming like an unbroken stallion. You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about ‘accidentally’ spilling some of this on you in Potions class. Draco nearly strangled me the first time I suggested it. That was when I figured it out, his feelings for you. He wouldn’t let me no matter what I promised to do in return, he likes your hair, crazy as that sounds.”

“Then why are you even slathering on your expensive and smelly goop and primping me like I’m ready to walk down the aisle?”

“Because I can.” he simply replied. “Pansy said this was your first date. Not just as a couple but like, first date ever. A witch deserves to feel beautiful. He may not like all the attention you’ll be getting but it’ll make him proud all the same-he’s complicated like that-and maybe it might wake your inner witch into seeing your full potential.”

“But it’s just hair and makeup; it doesn’t pertain to my ability as a witch-”

“Oh poppycock!” he admonished with a wave of his hand. “You know what they say about our magic, that it resonates with our sense of self. Those who are confident are strong and those who are meek are usually weaker. When you feel good about yourself your magic flows easier. And for a witch, feeling pretty and knowing she’s pretty is a way to fuel her ego. Have you ever noticed that the team who wins at Quidditch usually ends up performing better in their classes in the following days? Because the team experiences the euphoria of a win, an example of their ability that everyone witnessed. It boosts the ego and can lead to better performance in academics.”

“My goodness, no, I never have.” She replied in awe. Maybe she ought to pay more attention during the matches! “That’s incredibly insightful Zabini.”

“I’m going to savor this moment.” He said contently, wafting air in front of his face like he was inhaling a scrumptious pot of food. He’d actually taught something to Hermione Granger, Hogwarts’ resident know-it-all. Moments like this must happen once in a lifetime.  
………………………

“If he doesn’t hurry up we’re going to spend all our time in just preparing for the date that we’ll never get to have!” Draco growled, arms crossed and pouting like a professional prat.

Theo and Harry rolled their eyes and gave exhausted sighs. For the past ten minutes, Draco had been on a tirade about Blaise purposely sabotaging his plans by taking extra-long with his beautifying ministrations that he claimed were needed. Oh how the little dragon had roared over that choice of wording, proclaiming Hermione was just fine and that it would be HIM needing some beauty treatment to cover up what he was gonna do in retaliation if he didn’t hurry his little chocolate rear end and deliver.

“Draco, think about the logic here. Blaise is our roommate; he’s eventually going to have to return to the dorm at some point to sleep. Do you really think he’d do something like that and then leave himself vulnerable to the possibility of murder in his sleep later on?”

After a lengthy second to mull it over, the petulant blond solemnly nodded and conceded point to his friend. It was somewhat humorous, seeing the process of Malfoy logic straight from its source and how his friends countered it. Harry had to admit, Blaise was taking up a good amount of time, but then again Neville wasn’t on nearly as so many pins and needles and he knew he had to be just as nervous. So, it was partly on Draco for being so impatient. It shouldn’t be long now, considering Pansy had left Hermione in Blaise’s hands so she could doll up herself. Surely that was a good sign.

Now he understood why Theo had lagged behind after brunch and the mail drop (with the bouquet that Draco was now strangling in his worried grip) and after Ron and Lavender finally left. He knew that Draco was having a case of nerves-something he never thought possible, but here he was, in the Slytherin common room admiring the significant change Hermione’s sunlight spell had brightened up the gloomy interior of the underground dormitory. He and Neville had been snuck in after the room had cleared of all other Slytherin tenants and were eagerly awaiting the arrival of the girls.

When Hermione and Pansy did emerge they were a breathtaking sight.

Pansy with her signature sleek 1920’s haircut with dark eyeliner extending the natural shape of her rich irises into that classic Cat’s Eye design nearly made Neville’s mouth dry up and his tongue fall out. As a pureblood socialite she had an entire wardrobe to choose from, and her dress was a surprising sunshine yellow with a simple headband tucked in starkly against her dark hair. Little white kid gloves with lace trim adorned her hands as she untucked her arm from Hermione’s to present her along with a beaming-with-pride Blaise.

He stood in front and waved his arms like he was presenting the latest Quidditch broom model and stepped aside to make that grand appearance, watching Draco’s face fall into love-struck awe at his beautiful masterpiece.

Hermione’s hair had been tamed. A feat never thought possible given her history of humidity ridden fluff that bounced on her shoulders after a hot potion brewing session. Gone was the frizz and fuzz, replaced by otter-slick dark tresses wrapped up in a tight chignon bun and wrapped in a braid that crested around her hairline like a headband. Featherlike tendrils perfectly curled and spaced out starting at her ears along the backside of her neck dangled like wispy drapes. Glittering jeweled studs were tucked into her braid, evenly spaced every inch or so, turning her braid into a tiara.

A light blush dusted her cheeks, with matching rosy pink lip dye painting her lips into kissable temptations. Glitter had been brushed across her eyelids, sparkling with every blink. She smiled nervously, shrinking into the borrowed pink robe that Draco knew damn well belonged to Pansy but said nothing as she took one wavering step on strappy heels that he could’ve sworn she wore for yule ball. Not that footwear was all that important as long as it complimented the outfit. At least she wasn’t wearing her school regulated Mary-Janes with whatever she was hiding under the outer garment. 

He felt his feet pull him forward, though he could have sworn he just floated in her direction and handed her the simple bouquet, having ordered it just days before and making sure it was well warded against the perils of owl delivery, making sure to pick select flowers but also reminding himself to go with a simple arrangement rather than the entire garden he would’ve gladly sent her way.

She beamed as she took the delicate floral bundle and brought it to her nose to inhale their fragrance. “Let’s see….carnations, camellia, and gardenia.” She listed them off as if she’d be awarded points for correctly identifying them. “Just how many times are you going to tell me I’m lovely and that your heart aches for me?” she giggled, watching the tips of his pale ears pinken with that rush of blood that blushed his cheeks as well. Despite his minor embarrassment, he was thrilled that she’d been reading the Floriography book and memorizing its contents.

“As long as you need to be reminded of it.” He countered, causing her to cast her eyes at the floor for a beat. It tore at him when he realized that he was the reason she never considered herself worthy of a boy’s attention, not with all the times he called her Mudblood and insulted the hair he ached to touch. Now here he was, telling her the opposite was true and she still didn’t think it was the full truth.

He had now started to realize that even words could hurt, that they left long-lasting impressions. It’d been naïve of him to assume that just because he wasn’t physically bullying her in the way he had when engaging with other boys, that it still hurt her just the same. He’d never struck a girl in his life-even his father had instilled that into him-but he might as well have with his constant belittling of every feature she possessed.

“Blaise, man, I gotta hand it to ya.” Theo said, snapping Draco out of his dreamy-eyed gaze from his girl. “If I didn’t know it was her I’d be wondering who this enchanting princess is.”

Pansy flashed him a smile and flicked her hair. “Unlike some of us who are just naturally perfect.” She teased in a playful voice and winked at Neville.

“Oh but the best diamonds are the ones that are raw and unpolished.” Draco chimed in, just to push Pansy’s button a bit as much as he was playing to Hermione’s self-esteem.  
“I’ll accept appointments made in a timely fashion.” Blaise joked as he started to usher the couples along.

“Oh, uh…what am I supposed to do with this?” Hermione asked, holding her bouquet close to her chest. She didn’t think Draco meant for her to carry it around with them all day.

“I can put them in your room.” Pansy suggested but Draco waved her off, motioning for her to go ahead with Neville. She’d done her part for the day. He gently took the bouquet and waved his wand over it, transfiguring it into a broach that he then pinned to the robe. 

“Thank you.” Hermione replied, determined to keep the robe fastened so her dress wouldn’t be revealed. Pansy told her to save it until the opportune moment, and when she inquired as to when that would be; all Pansy would tell her is that she would know when it presented itself. Like that was helpful…But either way, now was too soon. She considered herself like a gift, all wrapped up and awaiting the right time when they were alone for him to appreciate the outfit she moderated just for him.  
……………………………

They departed the castle as a group, but paired off; Neville with Pansy, Draco with Hermione, and Theo with Harry. Blaise tagged along with Harry and Theo until after they’d hit Honeydukes for sweets, when Harry informed him that he had some relatives in town he promised to visit and excused himself along with Theo. Blaise couldn’t help but wonder what made Theo important enough to have tag along with (and lately it had seemed that there was some sort of closeness he couldn’t quite nail down) but put it out of mind when he came upon the Weasley twins emerging from Zonko’s and fell into comfortable conversation with the ginger troublemakers as they discussed their dream of one day owning a joke shop and supplying students with all sorts of various means to torture their professors.

It was by far a much more welcome and entertaining topic than wondering what the NottPott duo were up to.

Hermione was surprised that their first stop in Hogsmeade was to the Three Broomsticks, but then again her stomach had growled loud enough that not even Draco could ignore it and set off to treat her to lunch before anything else. She sheepishly smiled but he merely led her inside and pulled out her chair and attempted to take the robe she wore when she stopped him.

“Sorry, I just don’t want to risk spilling anything on it.” She excused, taking her seat and picking up the menu, avoiding his curious gaze. When he took the seat catty corner from her she peered over the brim of the booklet and asked “Are you going to let me order my own food or do I have to eat what you pick out?”

“What?” he blurted out, most perplexed.

Hermione immediately felt foolish. “I…uh….I thought that maybe…you might order for the both of us or something…just forget I said anything.” She rushed out.

After cocking his head to one side he breathed out a small smile. “Oh I see…you’ve been talking with Parkinson, haven’t you?”

She blinked innocently. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t? Considering that she’s been assigned as part of my protection detail and all-”

“She told you I order for her when we’re out?” he inquired, not really as a question but a statement that needed clarifying. When she nodded he continued. “Given that I’ve known her practically my whole life and know exactly what it is she likes, yes, I do that. But I wasn’t going to assume that with you. I don’t know everything about you…yet.”  
She remained silent, contemplating what that ‘yet’ might mean for a later occasion. It was reassuring that he’d been honest and hadn’t tried taking control of something as simple as that. Perhaps she might have Harry to thank for that, giving him pointers on muggleborn culture and behaviors. Their worlds were so different from each other it was amazing they had anything in common.

“Given the lunch rush, we’ll be sitting here a bit, so why don’t we work on that ‘yet’ and get to know each other better with some secret truths?” he suggested, flashing her a smile that revealed the dimple in his cheek. It made her knees turn to jelly, ever so grateful she was already sitting.

“Oh…ok…” she answered dumbly, feeling hot under the robe’s collar. “You go first then, since it’s your idea.”

He leaned in. “I have been curious actually, given that Lovegood and She-Weasley have been bumped up in our DADA class, why you aren’t taking advanced classes with the fifth years?”

She arched a neatly trimmed eyebrow at his unexpected question. She could ask him the same thing, but to be fair she would answer. Her next action took him by surprise as she carefully surveyed her surroundings before leaning in even closer to him. “Last year I took extra courses. I took everything actually. Thought I could handle it but I soon discovered I’d bitten off more than I could chew. So I’m staying in line this year.”

“How’d you manage to take extra courses?”

Her voice lowered to a hushed whisper. “Timeturner.”

His eyes widened to the size of saucers. “Are. You. Kidding. Me.”

She shook her head. “Course not! Why would I joke about something like that?”

He brought both hands to his face and wiped downwards, dragging his fingertips along his skin as he soaked in that tidbit of information. “Sweet Salazar, they actually entrusted you with a Merlin-forsaken timeturner and you used it to take more bloody classes? No wonder you always looked so damn tired…” he shook his head. “I couldn’t put my finger on it, you’d be one place, and then before I knew it, in a completely different spot in the blink of an eye…and you carried more books than usual…My god…extra freaking classes….” He trailed off as their server approached and asked for their orders.

Flipping a switch, he promptly answered and allowed Hermione to order for herself before handing over his menu and plastering that pleasantly fake smile on his face until they privacy once more.

“I’m surprised you noticed.” She stated, nervous what his reaction to that secret would’ve been but relived that he hadn’t gone mental over it. “Harry and Ron barely caught on, and Ron still doesn’t know.”

“Potter does?” he asked. She nodded. Looks like the bloke could be trusted, given that he paraded around the school with two key artifacts that aided in his proficiency for breaking the rules.

Bloody Gryffindors….

“Course I noticed.” He added a beat later. “All I could ever do was just observe, remember? Especially after you punched me. Pushed a little too far with that one and learned it the hard way.” He chuckled with a little rub to his nose.

“Don’t try making me feel guilty for that now. You deserved it then.” She warned, but with a smile belaying the threat. “But what about you? Why aren’t you taking advanced classes and rubbing it in everyone’s face?”

His lips curved to the side and he looked uncomfortable for a moment. Fingers tapped the tabletop. Eyes shifted to a point somewhere off in the distance.

“Draco?”

“You.” He blurted out, cheeks immediately turning pink as he crossed his arms. “I didn’t want to lose any classes we might share. Ok?”

She blinked silently for several seconds, mind at a loss to form a response to that.

He scratched the back of his neck and looked off in another direction as that answer weighed heavily on her mind. He never expected to have to confess to that closely guarded secret he’d never breathed even to his closest mates. If anything, he’d never even said it out loud to himself. It had more or less just been an unspoken thought in his mind whenever the subject was broached.

“I’m glad you didn’t.” she said after their achingly long moment of silence.

His head popped up and snapped back in her direction.

“I rather liked having you in class.” She confessed, idly drawing a finger along the rim of the glass when their server brought in their non-alcoholic butterbeers and appetizer. A devilish smirk danced across her face. “I liked knowing I was still beating you in grades. Watching you get frustrated every time, that little scowl that would furrow your brows and scrunch up your lips.” She giggled as she watched his composure fall apart with shock. “I know that you thought you could skate by in class, having not only been tutored but also with Malfoy influence, and yes, we all knew that Snape favored you, but he still graded work accordingly.”

He was stunned.

She continued onward. “I felt validated. No matter what mean things you had to say about me, you could never call me stupid. I always had the trump card you couldn’t refute.” Her eyes got glossy. “I had hoped, maybe one day…we’d get to work together and you’d see me for more than being well…what you used to call me.”

A lump wedged in his throat and stayed there.

Quickly, she dabbed at the corner of her eye and sniffed back a laugh. “And yet, there you were the whole time…Ironic.”

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, barely having a voice to speak with.

When she tilted her head back in his direction he felt like his heart had fallen out of his ribcage onto the floor. He suddenly placed a hand on his chest just to feel it beat and remind him it was there. “My parents were right about you, though I could barely believe them. They told me to give you time, eventually you’d come around to your senses, no matter how long it would take you. They even bet with each other, good naturedly of course. Every letter I’d keep them updated. Of course they were appalled at just how you treated me and my mother said to not let myself believe that all boys were like that while my father said to hex your balls off if you ever touched me.”

She took a sip to ease her parched throat. “I was almost convinced that I’d never appeal to anyone here, especially when Viktor was the one who approached me in the library. He didn’t even attend our school and yet here he was, asking me to go to the ball with him. I figured, if I don’t take this chance, no one here will ever see me. And I wanted to be seen. I wanted to show you I could be more than just messy hair and good grades.”

Before he could say anything, the blasted server arrived with their plates, all smiles and inquiries as to anything else they’d need and not to hesitate to signal for them should they change their mind. Hermione’s stomach audibly gurgled once again before she started tucking in and he lost the opportunity to say anything in response to her declaration. He didn’t even know what he’d say, but words were just bursting to come forth even if they didn’t have a cohesive pattern. Just anything. She deserved that at least.  
But, she also deserved a decent meal with how intensively her inner organs were calling for attention.  
…………………………

Arms laden with sacks of sweets from Honeydukes and Blaise now off chatting it up with the twins, Harry began to lead the way from the main street of Hogsmeade with Theo in tow. Curious but quiet, the brunet followed as they passed shops and classmates milling about. It wasn’t until they passed the boundary of cobbled walkways and property lines, their feet now meeting gravel and hard packed dirt and brush that Theo finally voiced his curiosity.

“Are you taking me out to the woods to kill me?” he joked, gnawing on a bit of taffy and tucking the rest in his trouser pocket. “Not the way I imagined I’d go but oh well.”

“As if.” Harry scoffed. “Why bother walking past so many witnesses when I could just have easily poisoned your candy when your back was turned.”

Theo stopped. “Wow mate, you’re getting better at this.” He laughed.

Harry beamed a ridiculous smile in return. “Maybe you are a bit of a bad influence on me after all.” He quipped, knowing he’d never have so dark a joke with Ron. “But we’re off to the Shrieking Shack to meet Sirius and Professor Lupin.”

“The Sh-shrieking Shack?” Theo stuttered, losing his nonchalant composure. “I thought we’d be at the Leaky or something.”

Harry had to quell his chuckling in order to explain that the shack was merely a husk of a house that Dumbledore had set up for Lupin to use as a base to safely transform during the full moons. And that his father and fellow Animagus’ stayed with him to ensure he didn’t harm anybody. The lore of it being haunted was gossip spread by the horrendous howls and occasional animal carcasses from his hunts and nothing more. 

“So it’s all just bluster?”

He nodded; signaling for silence as he waited for both men with canine enhanced senses to attune to their scents and sounds despite their distance from the empty house. A moment later the door opened and the familiar figure of their former Dark Arts professor filled the cavity, motioning for the two boys to come forward. They quickly crossed the distance and entered, with the keen eyes of the werewolf scanning the foliage in case they were followed.

Inside, the interior had been cleaned to an acceptable degree to allow guests, but not so much that it would raise alarm should snooping trespassers enter. Materials had been brought in to transfigure into furniture for them to sit on, looking rustic enough so it wouldn’t look out of place in a run-down dilapidated house in sore need of repair or demolition. Sitting comfortably but quickly rising to his feet was Sirius; well-groomed and trimmed and in some decent clothing that didn’t make him stand out should he be in a crowd. Harry and he lost all sense of decorum and clashed into each other with a mighty hug that translated a thousand unsaid words and emotions.

Theo stood by, holding the honeydukes bag and sucked on the interior of his cheek and made awkward glances at the man he once called professor. Remus never gave off an intimidating aura but just knowing he was a werewolf was enough for some people to get tunnel vision and see nothing but the monster that existed for only one day out of every thirtyish. He smiled warmly at his former student and gave the air a sniff.

“Sugar quills?” he asked, eyes just a little hopeful for a treat.

“Yeah sure.” Theo replied, digging them out of the bag. He handed over a whole box, claiming there was more. “Would’ve thought you be against this much sweets…”

Remus chuckled. “Lad, I’m not your professor anymore. And given that it’s a well-deserved Hogsmeade weekend I won’t begrudge your purchases. I’ve always had a sweet fang for these.” He said with a wave of the package and a wiggle of his fair eyebrows.

The smile, joke and twinkle in the man’s eye were enough to settle any nerves Theodore had about his reintroduction to Remus Lupin. Now it was the darker haired man with his hands in a fatherly grip on Harry’s shoulders, beaming like every bit of the proud parent he could’ve been had things been different for the teen that he had to contend with.  
“Uncle Sirius, this is my new friend Theodore Nott.” Harry said, waving an arm in his direction, motioning for him to come forward. “Things with Ron have taken a turn for the worst, and well…there’s just so much to fill you in on.”

The former inmate looked the skinny brunet once over and he could’ve sworn he heard just the barest hint of a throaty growl. “Hand over some of those Fiery Black Pepper Imps and let’s hear it then.”  
………………………..

“That was awfully nice of you Pansy.” Neville said, holding the door open for her to enter into Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop after she had let Cedric and Cho enter before them. He of course, followed in after her and was chagrined that they’d have to wait a little bit for a table, seeing as Cedric and Cho were allotted the last available one that would’ve been theirs if not for her kind gesture.

“I seem to be doing a lot of that lately.” She sighed, taking a seat on the bench by the entrance and smoothing out her lemony colored skirt.

“Nice is a good look for you.” He added, earning him a half-hearted smile from her perfectly painted lips.

“Oh come on, anything looks good on me.” she countered, watching him blush. “But I fear being in the proximity of Granger has had such a positive influence on me.”

“I think you’ve also had a bit of influence on her too. She’s never worn makeup before that I could tell. I think Yule was the first occasion and she definitely stepped up her game today. You and Blaise did an excellent job.”

“Blaise certainly knows hair unlike any wizard I’ve met.” She gushed. “He’s even taught me a few little tips and tricks to maintain this perfect gloss.” She flicked some raven strands between her fingers and watched them fall right back into place. “But poor girl needed my help, although she refused to ask for it.”

He chuckled. “Stubborn Gryffindorness.”

“Stubborn Chimera you mean.” She corrected just as a server came to them and led them to a tiny table in the corner. As they passed the Ravenpuff* couple they allowed entry before them they shared a wave and warm smile. Neville pulled out her chair and made sure she was settled before taking his own. 

“So, it would appear that Draco did send word to his father and Lucius has spoken with Daddy.” She stated in a businesslike manner once the server left with their order for tea and biscuits. “My father told me he will contemplate it.” She added tightly, emulating the way she knew her father would’ve spoken it.

For a moment Neville wasn’t sure if he should breathe a sigh of relief or hold it and wait for the other shoe to drop. 

“Considering how Daddy is often influenced by the doings of Malfoy Manor, he just might go along with it. I will have to report back to him with every detail of our date. Anticipate an owl in the next two days with a list of demands that he will expect of you that will no doubt include a few impossible feats to meet but that just goes without saying. And if push comes to shove I can always send him a Howler of me bawling my eyes out proclaiming that my heart belongs only to you and that if ever wants me to acknowledge him he’ll give his blessing.”

“Right.” Neville nodded firmly. “So, no pressure or anything.”

“Where’s that Gryffindor Bravery?” she challenged him with a flirtatious glint in her eye.

“Oh that ran away about thirty seconds ago. Might as well have him challenge me to a duel because I’m dead either way.” He deadpanned.

All she did was laugh delightfully and beam at the ridiculously adorable wizard across from her and knew that one way or another she’d get her father to give her what she wanted. She wasn’t a Parkinson for nothing.  
………………………

“Honestly girl, where do you put it all?” he joked as the plates were cleared away. If he hadn’t witnessed it he wouldn’t have believed Hermione Granger capable of devouring more than him. He was an athlete (of sorts) and had to pack on the protein after a good round of flying whether for practice or actual games.

“You do recall I am a green belt in karate.” She demurely dabbed her lips and chuckled. “I can burn just as many calories as you with your little flying tricks.”

“Oh you just did not.” He replied in semi-mock indignation at her little jab to his sport.

“I did.” She grinned, teasing him, baiting him. He loved it.

“I think a comment like that deserves to have you dragged around in Spintwitches Sporting Needs for the next half hour.” He declared as he offered his hand as she scooted her chair back and took to her feet. 

No sooner than he had her hand in his was his shoulder jarred enough for them to break contact, forcing him to look up his upper-classman and Quidditch captain, Marcus Flint. The older student glared down at them, a menacing sneer curling over his crooked teeth. “Drag your Mudblood elsewhere Malfoy. Her lot doesn’t even appreciate flying, let alone Quidditch. Not like I’d want something like her sitting in our stands with her nose in a damn book.”

“Back off Flint, where I take my date is no concern of yours.” Draco growled.

The fifth year wasn’t deterred in the slightest. “At least I know which table to avoid.” He scoffed, referring to the one they just vacated. As if her mere presence had somehow contaminated it. “Then again, I think I just lost my appetite.”

“With a face like that your food is glad it’s already dead.” Hermione hissed from behind Draco’s shoulder, where he’d discreetly nudged her.

“Speak to me like that again Mudblood and I’ll get you with something worse than the Densaugeo.” Marcus spat.

“If anyone needs it, it’s you.” She countered, pressing herself against Draco’s shoulder to stand toe-to-toe with Flint.

“Fucking bitch.” He snarled, shoving at Draco. Enough of a crowd had taken notice of the encounter and before anything else could happen, the older teen was pulled back and restrained.

“I’ll not be having childish antics in my establishment!” Madam Rosmerta bellowed.

“We were just leaving.” Draco said, eyes still throwing daggers in Flint’s direction. He reached into his pocket and slammed a few galleons on the surface. “For your troubles." he added as he led Hermione out of through the crowd of bodies and tables and back into the sunlight. He was silently fuming so as not to cause a scene but Hermione could practically see the smoke pouring from his ears. 

She honestly had expected something along those lines to happen, from Flint as well as others. And wasn’t deluding herself that there wouldn’t be more to come. It was just a fact of her life that she had adapted to and it truly didn’t bother her to the degree that most thought. It only showed ignorance and the inability to be progressive, even amongst wizards. Every time she heard the name she felt a strange sense of pride in herself that could only be described as validation that she was still a threat to those around her. If they didn’t fear her they wouldn’t bother trying to tear her down with petty insults.

Her hand sought out Draco’s, whose fist had clenched and ached to punch something. When he spun around to face her his rage was quelled like ice water being dumped upon a flame with the smile she gave him and the little squeeze of her fingers around his knuckles. “Come on; let’s get some Honeydukes before we head up to Spintwitches.” No mention of Flint, of the slur used, of the fact that he tried to ruin their date. Just a smile and a squeeze and a little skip in her step as she tugged his hand for a second before he fell in step along with her.

Like it never happened.

He probably indulged in a little much, but anger twinged with a sweet tooth made for impulsive shopping in a candy confectionary. Either way, it wasn’t like he was going broke any time soon and if he had purchased something he ended up not liking then he’d leave it on the Slytherin dining table for others to grab at their delight. No harm no foul. Except the disapproving glance from his girlfriend as she was skeptical that even magic couldn’t prevent him from developing cavities from the several pounds worth of treats crammed into their extendable charmed bag.

Hogwarts provided students with temporary extended bags for their duration of a Hogsmeade weekend after several years of the struggles of students losing valuable Hogsmeade time with multiple trips back forth to the school, injuries that arose from large purchases, the troubles with deliveries and constantly sending house Elves to retrieve said purchases. Eventually enough fiascos had fueled the ire and gathered the professors and members of the school council to come up with a solution. 

And there it was, a spell that merely lasted for 48 hours on a bag that had to be signed for. Damaged, stolen/lost bags resulted in a fine, detention, and the potential to lose a future Hogsmeade trip. Once the spell ran out the bag would violently project said occupants wherever they happened to be, so it was always a good measure to return to Hogwarts in a timely fashion in order to safely retrieve whatever purchases there were and hand the bags back in.

Since Blaise had holed Hermione up for most of the morning and early afternoon with his mission to tame that hair, Draco had signed out the bag and was therefore the one charged with its care. The bags of candy from the store easily slipped inside and barely registered on his arm as he nibbled on a chocolate frog and walked on Hermione’s right, as was the gentlemanly thing to do when out with a lady. His eyes darted across the street, seeing how a line was forming up outside of Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop and smirking to himself. If he wanted, he could whisk her over there and with a snap of his fingers; procure them a table despite the obvious queue. But he knew she wouldn’t approve of that. That wasn’t the kind of power that she was attracted to.

It was still hard for him to understand how his wealth wasn’t impressive enough for someone who obviously grew up with much less, given that the entirety of the Wizarding World practically considered him unofficial royalty. A mere mention of his name was enough to make people fall over themselves in order to either make way or serve. If grown ass wizards would quake in their dragonhide boots at the thought of displeasing a Malfoy, then why wasn’t this Muggleborn affected with the same sense of awe? When given a list of his positive attributes the top two contenders was either his wealth or his inherited pale complexion and chiseled features. 

Neither of those were at the top of her list and it was frustrating. He knew how to work with what he knew had always been tried and true. Handsome and rich, it was easy to get what he wanted. But he’d nearly had to argue with her on insisting to pay for lunch, with her proclaiming she had enough money and didn’t expect him to cover every expense just because it was a date. He finally found the right method in when he offered it as a way to make up for the breakfast she missed and the torture she had to endure getting her hair done.

Inside Honeydukes however, she’d not pulled a single galleon from her purse and let him go hog wild with the handfuls of treats he was hastily grabbing should they suddenly run out of stock-on everything. The only candy she had picked up was a pack of Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum in Crazyberry flavor and he stowed it in with the armload. But he didn’t think she’d find anything interesting inside Spintwitches although he hoped he could interest her in a broom of her own.

“Hey, how bout we dip into Scrivenshaft's first?” he suggested, catching her off guard so that the bubble she was trying to blow ended up popping too soon and smacking her on one cheek. She hurriedly peeled off the tacky glob and stuffed the gum back in her mouth, being an entirely adorable mess while at it. He was completely wrapped and knew it, just thinking thoughts like that. Never one to turn down a trip to the quill shop for new supplies she bobbed her head up and down like an excited child. 

“One condition.” He said, raising a single finger up to demonstrate his point. When it was clear that she wasn’t going to argue, he continued. “You let me pay for whatever it is you pick out in there, and in Spintwitches.”

“That’s two conditions.” She countered.

He shook his head. “No, it’s still one considering the possibility you might not find anything you want in there.”

“Highly unlikely Draco.”

“Indulge me Hermione.” He pleaded. “Just let me spoil you. Do I really need to beg to be allowed?”

“Would you really beg?” she batted her eyelashes playfully and flashed an almost feline grin at him.

Oh, so the kitty wanted to play like that eh? He matched her grin and advanced a step forward, closing the distance to practically nothing in an instant. Her head whipped to one side as she began looking around to see if they were drawing in observers, but for the moment found the street mostly bare and before she could turn her head back, he was there at her ear, the breath whishing from his nostrils tickling her neck. “I could always make you beg….” He purred, watching the gooseflesh dot along her skin with the shivering anticipation of just how he planned to execute his threat. “And I’ll do it. Right here. Gather up an audience for everyone to see.” He wiggled his fingers to show that he would indeed, begin to tickle her senseless if she refused.

“You wouldn’t.” she whispered back, was it a plea, a firm denial?

“You know what happens when you dare me.” he warned. “Shall I make do on my promise to throw you over my shoulder this time?” His hands reached out and ghosted over her hips. He could feel that she had on either a dress or skirt with the way the material flared out underneath Pansy’s robe. “Wouldn’t want to flash those knickers of yours would ya?”

“You’re despicable.” Her tone was anything but convincing that she wasn’t contemplating letting him do it while laughing the whole time. “Practically blackmailing me into letting you pay for my things.”

“Messed up, isn’t it?” he laughed. “But I had to go pick a bloody stubborn witch who doesn’t give a fig about galleons so I have to resort to other means.” She felt his fingers dig into the fabric a little, as if he were trying to decipher what it was she was wearing. “Maybe even take you to Gladrags and get you a set of robes of your own…”

She sighed. “This is always going to be a thing with you, isn’t it?”

“Glad you’ve come to realize it. Yes. I’m going to insist. Every time. There is no good reason you can give me as to why you cannot accept my gold. There just isn’t so don’t even try starting now.”

He had a point, although she loathed to admit it. He had the immense wealth. He was the gentleman. He wanted to make up for years of mistreatment. The list could go on but as more people had begun milling about in the street she considered her best option was to let the boy have his way on the matter. If he was smiling and being sweet then he was less likely to get into a fight with someone with a loud mouth and rude manners.

“Fine.” She conceded and let him draw her into the quill shop where he restocked her supply of quills, letter parchment and a special bottle of cobalt blue ink to write to her parents in. As she wandered around in the book section with his blessing and promise that she could have any three books she wanted he turned to the proprietor and leaned over the counter.

“That’ll keep her busy for at least twenty minutes. Have you got any satchels sturdy enough to survive the school’s biggest bookworm?”  
……………………………

It was a surreal setting, sitting there munching on candy and recounting all the events of the year, everything from when the Goblet had spit his name out and the first trial, the second, and then how everything had slowly started to unravel until it became an avalanche of one bad day after the other with everything that had once been normal being flipped upside down.

Remus would nod along to points he was well aware of, being the one of the two men that could still walk the streets of Wizarding London and catch snippets of gossip while buying groceries. He’d return with food and the newest editions of all the newspapers covering the fantastic drabblings of Skeeter for Sirius to read and angrily throw at the fireplace knowing it was mostly fabrications. He was pleased to know he was right after Harry confirmed that he and Hermione never had a relationship to begin with, let alone that she would dare two-time him with a foreign Quidditch player and fellow Tri-Wizard contestant.

That led to a new tangent, with both him and Theo recounting the new budding relationship between the unlikely Slytherndor* couple. Theo was practically bubbling with excitement about finally having something of merit to say, having been there for nearly all of it. Watching the face of the mostly stoic and reserved man morph into pure astonishment was worth some points Theo thought with pride.

“So my little cousin has come into his own man then?” Sirius chuckled, but stopped short. “Someone’s coming.” He perked up just as Remus went rigid and sniffed the air.  
“It’s Ronald…and a girl….”

Theo and Harry immediately knew. Ron was bringing that slag Lavender up here for some privacy.

“We need to get out of here. He knows too much.” Harry worriedly whispered. Theo immediately began grabbing their candy wrappers and stuffing them into their Hogsmeade bag as Sirius morphed into his canine form and Remus led them out of the back way, silently slinking away as their suspicions were confirmed, Ron was indeed leading Lavender by the hand up to the shack. 

“Well, that place is certainly haunted now.” Theo quipped once they were a safe distance away. “Because what those walls are about to see would give any house nightmares.”

Remus couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled forth despite trying to maintain the adult aloofness of someone his age. He couldn’t ever recall Theodore saying more than three words at any given time last year while in his class but found the boy had quite the sharp wit and joke handy for any situation. And clearly, he held some affection for the green-eyed lad next to him as they meandered through the brush, with Sirius off a ways, alert for any other would-be obstacles to avoid. He could still clearly hear everything that was being said.

“Looks like we’ll have to take that room at the Hog’s Head after all.” He sighed bitterly. “Sirius has developed a case of claustrophobia after all that time in a cell and hiding out at Grimmauld for the past year hasn’t helped. I was hoping we’d have more time for him to stretch his legs and get some fresh air.”

“How long is going to have to stay in hiding?”

The werewolf sighed. “Until viable proof can be presented that he isn’t responsible for your parent’s deaths-”

“Which we now know Pettigrew is!” Theo interjected passionately, “And he’s been staying at Malfoy Manor!”

Sirius stopped in his tracks, a growl in his throat that even the boys could hear. 

Remus signaled for Sirius to stay where he was and not go charging off like a mad dog, then put on a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Are you absolutely certain of this?”

“Draco told us. He’s been there all summer at least and during Easter.” He answered. “And as far as we know, he’s in on the plot against Harry next month.”

“We need to speak with him.” The man stated solemnly.

“Leave it to me.” Theo replied, brandishing his wand. “I’ve learned a thing or two this year.” He thought up a happy memory, called forth his Patronus and spoke to it. “Message for Draco: Hey Smaug, you and Lionne need to meet us in the back of the Hog’s Head. It’s important.”

The conjured shape of the Jack Russel Terrier then bounced off, leaving Remus Lupin quite impressed with his former student. He and the boys, followed by the big black dog then took the back route into Hogsmeade with those in human form entered through the front of the building through the first floor and out the back to wait for their friends.  
…………………………………..

He’d been right about the twenty minutes, but she came out with five books, not three. She went into a quick paced explanation that two were from a series she was currently reading and had missed the chance to get the one before the next edition was out and he just stood there with his hands in his pockets, listening to it all and imagining this was how she managed to get her way with most people, by overwhelming them with so much information that they just caved in order to stop the sensory overload.

When she winded down she had a most perplexed look on her face, holding the two extra books to her chest like treasured possessions while she took stock of his aloof body language and relaxed expression. “What?” he said with a smirk, shrugging his shoulders and praying she hadn’t seen the custom order slip on the counter before the clerk picked it up before grabbing the three books. “Go ahead. You obviously need them, it’s no problem.”

She blinked back in shock. She expected more teasing, more arguing and bargaining, or to at least be interrupted before she actually reached the end of her reasoning. But he hadn’t done any of those things. It was as refreshing as it was slightly scaring her, that she was actually standing there with someone who could appreciate her appreciation of the written word and not belittle her for it or make it a trait of hers that she needed correcting in order to be more sociably acceptable. 

The two extra books joined the stack and other items and was rang up then tucked away in their Hogsmeade shopping bag before they traded pleasant farewells upon their exit, with the man promising that Draco’s order would be ready for pick up tomorrow. When they stepped outside she gripped his hand, preventing him from starting to cross back towards the sport boutique and instead led him around the side of the building. “Oh? Dragging me off already for a secret snog?” he joked, finding himself leaning against the wall with his arms smugly crossed against his chest. “Didn’t know those two books meant THAT much…”

“Close your eyes.” She commanded softly, watching his eyebrows reach his hairline. “Please.”

He was enjoying her squirming but was intrigued all the same by her request. After a moment of watching her face start to make that impatient pout he closed his eyes, not knowing what to expect. He heard fabric shifting and little huffs of breath and the plop of cloth hitting the ground before she told him to open them. For a second, considering the sounds he’d just heard, he wasn’t sure that was the safest thing for him to do…then again, Hermione Granger was not the sort of girl to start undressing in public….or was she? 

No. Definitely not, stop thinking like that.

A second later he opened them and felt his brain come to a screeching halt. All thought process grinded to a dead stop, as did his ability to breathe and blink. Gone was Draco Malfoy only to be replaced by an effigy that merely resembled him, so still he’d become. Thank Merlin he was already leaning against a wall for he was certain he’d have fallen over.

She cocked her head to the side as she held fistfuls of her skirt, swishing the fabric left and right as she let his eyes rove over, up and down again. It was the only part of him that was moving, besides the way his jaw unhinged and stayed there. Since he seemed incapable of forming words, once again (she’d begun to notice he had done this twice before now) she spoke up.

“Do you like it?” 

He finally blinked. A few times in rapid succession.

So used to tucking loose hair behind her ear, her hand was already up and trying to move strands that were currently unattainable. “I only had two dresses…and I’d already worn the floral one…so I thought…” her eyes hit the ground. “You liked it then…and I didn’t see another opportunity-”

“Hermione.”

Immediately her head was up, meeting his smoky eyes, feeling his hands grip her waist and pull her into him. She felt the erratic rhythm of his heart as his arms wrapped around her, pressing her further into his form with his face buried in the soft crook of her neck. Only a beat behind, she brought her arms around him and returned the hug.

“Thank you.” He whispered into her skin, wondering what it was he had done to ever deserve such a thoughtful girl, how utterly perfect she was, forgiving and caring, always full of surprises despite how well he thought he was prepared. How she had known that this dress in all its splendor had been what his dreams were made of, and that he longed to see her in it once again….

He picked her up and spun her around, watching the skirt flare out as she locked her hands behind his neck and let out a high pitch squeal that turned into laughter, kicking her heels up and tucking them in to ease the centrifugal force of his spinning and keep him balanced. She didn’t need any more confirmation than that, feeling weightless in his arms and even when he stopped, her feet on the ground once again and him leaning down, the bridge of his nose gently grazing against hers.

In this moment, words weren’t needed, even though every fiber of his being was screaming to convey everything he was feeling and then some. But the moment her lips met his all the rambling in his mind ceased. It just felt so right. He could deal with a thousand Marcus Flint’s if this was the end result he was rewarded with afterwards. Because she was his. And he was every bit hers. 

Their serene moment came to a grinding and shocking halt when Theo’s terrier Patronus suddenly appeared, voice ringing loud and clear with their codenames, saying it was important. Hermione immediately pulled away, mind going straight into business mode while he could’ve killed Theodore Nott with the power of a thought for interrupting yet another kiss. 

But alas, duty called.  
…………………………..


	58. “Siriuously”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calling Hermione and Draco to join them for an impromptu meeting, Sirius decides to have a little “fun” with his cousin first.

Back in human form, Sirius turned towards Remus and the boys. With that playful grin spreading wide across his face, fueled by a perhaps the boredom of being on the lam for so long and having ingested a copious amount of sugar, he convinced the trio to hide from sight so he could get the jump on their unsuspecting company. Perhaps it was his natural charisma, or the fact that he was amongst another Marauder, his godson, and a boy that seemed to thrive on sick humor, but he managed to get his way, waiting for them to shimmy back inside the Hog’s Head before reverting into his canine form.

Being endowed with a coat of black fur, it didn’t take much for him to slink into a shadow and remain unseen.

They didn’t have long to wait, no doubt the timely response a product of Hermione’s urging. Perfect.

Upon arriving to seeing an empty lot rather than the expected presence of their friends, Draco growled with frustration and stomped indignantly with clenched fists. “That prat! Interrupts yet another moment I have with you and for what?”

“Draco, wait…we may have gotten here first.” She calmly advised, a hand touching his arm. “The guys could’ve gotten distracted with window gazing or were stopped by a friend.”

He sighed. “I suppose that’s true.”

He then heard a low rumbling and turned to look at his girlfriend, questioning the size of her stomach. “Sweet Salazar, didn’t you eat enough earlier?”

“I beg your pardon? I had a perfectly adequate lunch.” She huffed, affronted by the accusation.

“I just heard your stomach growl-again-do you have hollow legs or something?”

“Draco, that was not my stomach. I would’ve felt it had it rumbled. You must be mistaken.”

Another low growl tickled both their senses, causing them to pause and look around. “Ok I heard that one.” She said, eyes wide.

“Ok Theo, enough playing around.” Draco declared with some bravado and ire, pulling Hermione close to him nonetheless.

“What makes you think it’s him?” she asked, still looking around for any sign of their friends-or the source of the growling.

“Come on. He has a flipping dog for a Patronus.” He reasoned, nearly ready to brandish his wand. “If you don’t come out we’re leaving!” he shouted to the open air, foot already turning to make their exit when a massive black shape leapt from a stack of empty crates and landed at Draco’s feet, snapping its jaws and making the teenagers jump back.  
Draco had immediately pulled Hermione up against his back, putting himself in the beast’s proximity, eyes staring down the similar grey ones surrounded by thick black fur. Again it growled, brandishing teeth and pawed the ground between them.

“I told you not to buy so much candy!” she hissed from behind his shoulder. “I bet every creature nearby can smell all three pounds worth!”

“Think he wants a chocolate frog?”

“You can’t give chocolate to dogs Draco, it could kill them!” she admonished, unaware that Draco had never owned a dog, let alone barely even petted one. His limited experience with animals had only ever circulated around birds, fish, and the occasional cat outside of equestrian riding and the dragon his father had procured for his tenth birthday as entertainment for his party. It unfortunately couldn’t remain on the grounds and was sent off to a sanctuary where it could be live in peace and safety.  
The dog began to circle them, but Draco kept moving along with it, keeping himself firmly rooted between the dog and girl. Growing irritated with the beast, Draco tried kicking at it to scare it off but the dog caught his shoe between his teeth and started yanking and shaking. Eventually Draco lost the shoe as Hermione pulled her wand from the wand pocket in Pansy’s robe and pointed it at the animal. She hesitated though.

“What are you waiting for? Stun it!” Draco cried, hoping on one booted foot.

“He’s not vicious.” She stated, watching the dog happily prance around with the expensive piece of footwear. “More like…playful.”

“Playful? He fucking growled at us and took my shoe!”

“To be fair, you kicked at him.” She corrected.

“Hermione!” he shouted in frustration. “For Salazar’s sake just get my shoe back!”

She couldn’t help but burst into laughter, suddenly joined by several other voices in their various pitches and patterns-one that she knew very well. She whirled in the direction of the Hog’s back door. “Harry James Potter!” she shouted furiously when the realization of everything hit her full force.

The dog then pounced on Draco, knocking the blond onto his back as he dropped the shoe on his chest and began sniffing him all over as Draco flailed and started smacking at the animal, clearly terrified he was going to be eaten.

“Wait Draco!” she called to him. “It’s Sirius!”

“Of course it’s bloody serious, this fucking thing is trying to kill me and you’re all laughing your arses off!” he screamed, grabbing the dog’s face and twisting its mouth away from him.

“Remus, do something!” she begged of her former professor who was bent over with laughter along with Harry and Theo. She shook her hands with agitation and felt her magic rise. If she didn’t get herself under control she could hurt them all, but Draco was clearly panicked and Sirius was enjoying himself too much to listen. Her breath started coming in short and fast, she was beginning to feel flushed and staticky, her magic tingling at her fingertips and in the tip of her wand.

Shit.Shit.Shit.

“Padfoot! Down boy!” she shouted, emitting a powerful blast that knocked the dog off the prone teenager and her fellow wizards off their feet. The dog whined as he struck the stack of crates and returned to his human form, groaning from the impact.

Draco shuffled backwards and ungracefully managed to get to his feet, red faced, panting, hair mussed and eyes wide as ever at the sight of a dog transforming into a man. He vaguely recalled the name Padfoot but had too much adrenaline running in his veins to put it together. “What the fuck.” He panted out, looking around at his friends and former professor regaining their senses and getting to their feet. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Hermione gently took his arm and pulled his attention towards her. “Are you alright?” she started investigating him for cuts, her hands running softly across him. When she cupped his jaw he grabbed her wrist and pulled it down. She could see it in his eyes that he was not amused by the little joke, not one bit. His ego had taken more of a beating than anything else.

Sirius was on his feet; shoe in hand, a mixed look of remorse and perverse joy on his face. He and Remus had been two-fourths of a mischief making quartet after all. However happy she was to see the two gentlemen, their joke was ill-timed and carried too far and now she was beginning to feel just as irritated as Draco was, having snatched the shoe back from his cousin and jammed his foot into unceremoniously.

“Theodore Nott, explain yourself.” She demanded, pointing her wand under his chin and watching the blood drain from his face. “You called us here, for a prank?”

“Hermione, please put down the wand.” Remus pleaded softly, using a gentle tone laced with authority he didn’t have but hoped would still encourage her to do as he bid.

Without taking her eyes off Theo she addressed the man coldly. “You have no authority here Remus. But somebody better start talking.”

“This is all my fault.” Sirius admitted, stepping forward only for Draco to once again intercede with his presence between him and his witch. “It was just a bit of fun. Didn’t realize little Draco here was afraid of dogs.”

“Fuck you.” He spat.

“Boys!” she shouted at all the males in her vicinity. “Upstairs. NOW.” She ordered, flicking her wand and slamming the back door open as she pointed it to their destination.  
Both Remus and Sirius shared a look of impressed compliance and shuffled in after Harry and Theo who were hightailing it up the stairs to the designated room Remus told them they had reserved. When Draco came up to the door she stopped him by pressing him firmly against the side of the building with a searing kiss.

“You were quite brave Draco.” She explained once they parted. “But don’t be too upset with him, he is a Gryffindor after all.”  
………………………..

The small room definitely felt smaller with a total of six people crammed inside, with Sirius at the only window, Harry and Theo sitting on the bed, and Remus in the corner with arms crossed and a sincere apology in his eyes once Hermione and Draco entered. Obviously everyone was in the doghouse-pun intended-with Hermione as she entered with confident steps, shucked off the borrowed robe and handed it to Draco without sparring him a glance, with him going off to gently fold it over the back of the single chair in the opposite corner of the room as she narrowed her eyes at her best friend and his godfather.

“Sirius, you’re looking well.” She said in clipped tones. “Much better than last year.” Last year the man was gaunt, haggard, and filthy. Not exactly the best of first impressions.  
“I have Remus to thank for that. Plenty of fruits and vegetables. And occasional walks.” 

“I do believe you owe someone an apology.” She continued in that same authoritative voice, giving him no quarter. The man looked at her with eyes that clearly said ‘Are you serious?’ to which her own silently replied ‘You better believe I am.’

“My goodness, being Slytherin certainly suits you.” He quipped, having read the articles on her resortment and nearly dying from the shock. With wary eyes he watched as Draco came up to her side and slid an arm around her waist, pulling her into him just a bit, but enough to clearly say ‘Mine’.

“Before we busted you out of Azkaban I’ll have you know that Draco was in an altercation with Buckbeak and has also been transformed into a ferret and tossed about by our so-called Professor Moody, so attacking him in dog form was not your most brilliant idea.”

“My apologies.” He replied, hands up in a surrender. “Being locked up tends to leave one out of the loop on most things.”

After hearing her opening statement, Theo’s jaw dropped open and his eyes widened to near saucer size. Draco also felt the same way despite keeping a calmer face about it. He had the feeling the timeturner was involved since he remembered Hagrid telling him the hippogriff was alive and well, and knowing that the jailbreak happened shortly after the so-called execution of the animal. Merlin’s beard, was there anything those bloody Gryffindors weren’t capable of pulling off?

“Draco, although the introduction is not ideal, I’d like you to formally meet your cousin Sirius Black, also known as Padfoot.” She announced, trying to smooth things over in the tense atmosphere in the rented room.

All Draco did to acknowledge the man was give a single nod along with a steely glare. Hermione could tell it was going to take some time for the two to be on speaking terms. At least the fault wasn’t on Draco for it. “Now that that is settled, I’d like to know why we were pulled away from our very lovely date and summoned here.”

Her eyes landed on Theodore, just to watch him squirm. It was his Patronus after all. The brunet looked at Harry and then Remus for support. Clearly, this was not his moment for bravery.  
……………………..

It didn’t take too long with a ramshackled explanation coming from Harry, Remus, and Theo at different intervals for Hermione to appoint a single spokesman to make things simpler and that fell upon Remus unanimously. Hermione was now sitting in the single chair, Draco at her side with his arm draped across the edge, his hand barely touching her shoulder. He still couldn’t stop glaring at his second cousin, his mind running through a rolodex of everything he’d ever heard about the man from his aunt Walburga and his mother.

Being the lone Gryffindor in a household going generations back of nothing but Slytherins hadn’t boded well for the man, immediately an outcast just for that factor alone, neverminding his antics in school along with Fleamont and Euphemia Potter adopting him, thus earning his face being burned off the family tapestry. He heard he was responsible for the deaths of Lily and James and a dozen muggles, along with Pettigrew which he now knew was all false-well, except for the muggle thing, he hadn’t heard anything yet on that matter but he was pretty sure that was untrue as well given how Harry, Hermione, and Lupin were around him.

Eventually the subject moved to the topic at hand, the current location of said rat.

“When I said you’d seen him at the manor over Easter that’s when Lupin said they needed to speak with you.” Theo explained.

“Ah.” Draco replied with a nod. “And what of it?”

“Pettigrew framed me.” Sirius spat vehemently. “I trusted him after I lost my faith in Remus; I put myself and the Potter’s in the hands of the devil and got twelve innocent muggles killed as well.” He shook his head with the bitterness those memories conjured, the guilt never any easier to swallow no matter after how many years he’d been screaming his innocence to deaf ears. “I need that bastard alive as proof to finally prove to the world I am not the mass murderer they’ve made me out to be.”

The blond shrugged. “He comes and goes. He’s been there, yeah, but who’s to say for how long?”

“Having him brought to justice would grant me my freedom.” Sirius stated imploringly. Being a Gryffindor or not, he wasn’t above begging for this one single thing. It meant everything. It had been everything. For the past thirteen years it had been his most achingly prominent thought: get out, find the rat, get revenge. Harry and the kids, along with Remus had only managed to talk him down from the act of killing despite how much his bones ached for it. Now, justice would suffice.

“Have these two told you about Dumbledore’s plan?” Hermione asked of the two men. “Professors Snape and McGonagall are aware of it as well.”

Sirius held back his opinion of Severus Snape, but only just marginally. The prank he pulled back in their fifth year nearly got Severus killed and had forever erected a wall of contention between the two that worsened with time. James was not above tossing the half-blood around for laughs and he doubted there would ever be even the slightest hint of reconciliation. He’d known of the unfair treatment he unleashed on Harry especially thanks to their written correspondence. This year he noticed a significant lack of it in Harry’s letters.

“Hence why we are here.” Remus stated. “My presence won’t raise suspicion, especially if I’m seen showing Hogwarts pride for our two current champions in the tournament. Aberforth and Albus have set us up with room and board for when we are here, though we’ll still have to be careful. We’ll be spending the week back at Old Grim and weekends here so someone doesn’t go stir crazy.” He motioned with a jut of his chin towards his roommate. “And we’ll be easier to reach should need be.”

“Clever trick with the Patronus’s by the way.” Sirius added. “And codenames too.”

“That was my idea.” Theo happily admitted. Draco rolled his eyes. It was slightly irritating at how his best mate was literally acting like a puppy, wanting some praise from the two older wizards. “Barkley, Bolt, Smaug, and Lionne.” He said, pointing to each as he listed their names out.

Sirius nodded with affirmation, understanding their references. Barkley the dog, Bolt for the boy with the scar, Smaug for the little dragon prat and Lionne for the former Gryffindor girl. Yep, easy enough. Not bad actually. It reminded him of the time when he and the guys had gathered around their map, plotting, jotting down ideas, cracking jokes and the innocence of it all. How quickly those good times had faded.

“It’ll be good to have you nearby. Sorry I didn’t get to see you at Christmas.” Harry said to his godfather.

“Pishposh.” He dismissively waved. “Like I’d have you miss your first ball just for a visit in a crummy old house? I’d have turned you away and made you go!”

Draco’s hand idly touched Hermione’s bare shoulder. What he would give to have been able to dance with her that night. Catch her under the randomly placed mistletoe. Have all eyes on him as he made it publicly known that he was courting her. Perhaps even slip a bracelet on her wrist or pendant around her neck for all to see. He may not have been aware of it in that exact moment, still trying to sort out his obsession and hidden admiration and irritation, but now he knew and in hindsight wished he’d done more that night.

Their pictures had graced the cover and several full size article spaces in the pages of every magazine and newspaper that following week, selling copies by the dozen so people had several to save as keepsakes. All in full color, with the full splendor of the décor in the background and bodies milling about in a blur except for the focus of the photographer’s lenses. Now that the subject of Yule had been brought up, eyes started shifting over to Hermione’s direction and the dress she was currently wearing. It was dawning on them to realize what she’d done to her ball gown and who she was currently with. It was a silent yet bold statement.

“You know, we have interrupted this young couple’s date so perhaps we ought to let them get back to it.” Remus suggested, shifting his weight onto his other shoulder against the wall. His feet somewhat ached to be relieved as well. They’d covered most of the bases between the six of them, and anything further discussed would no doubt be shared between the teenagers afterwards. He gave Hermione a sympathetic glance. “My apologies dear. I was unaware that today was special for the two of you.”

“Theo could’ve told you that.” Draco said darkly, eyeing his fellow Slytherin harshly. Theo could’ve manned up and given them all the information they needed rather than interrupting a damn fine moment-again-and leading them into an ambush. Oh that git was going to hear from him later on.

“Well gentlemen, if that’ll be all…” Hermione trailed off as she took to her feet, Draco flinging out the pink robe and draping it over her shoulders in a well-practiced swoop befitting of his pureblood upbringing. 

“Actually…if I might have a word with my little cousin…?” Sirius interjected, eyes imploring for the room to be vacated except for the two of them. “I won’t bite.” He added as both a reassurance and a joke. Draco didn’t find it humorous as he scoffed at the remark but motioned for Hermione to join the others in their exodus.

The room was deathly silent for a beat as Sirius seemed to be listening to their distant footsteps, knowing Remus was taking them far enough to not overhear their conversation. “Alright,” he sighed, pushing himself away from the window sill. “I took it too far with the scare. I admit that. Honestly, how was I supposed to know you’d freak out? But I digress, not my finest moment. Little rusty at the pranks.”

Draco rolled his eyes. This guy was a total dweeb.

“I’d rather you not hate me for that. And not because I’m Gryffindor either, seeing as you’re now chummy with Harry and Hermione.” He held up a hand to prevent any correcting from his younger cousin. “Whom I’m well aware is Slytherin now. Which I’m wondering if you had a hand in that…”

“No. At least, I don’t think I did…” he answered honestly. It was something that had nestled in the back of his mind ever since it happened. Had he truly influenced her or had she secretly been Slytherin all along? 

“How long have you-”

“Is this an interrogation?” Draco snapped, his patience already ebbing away. “I was actually having a nice day before we were so rudely interrupted.”

“I’m merely trying to understand how the two of you came to be.” The Animagus stated with honest intention. “I know her, and from what I’ve heard about you-”

“You can take your opinion and shove it.” The blond growled, giving the former canine a run for the throaty sound. “I’ve known her longer than you have.”

“Good Godric lad let me have a sentence will ya?” he sighed. Was the boy always so testy? “She’s a nice girl-”

“I don’t believe this.” Draco scoffed, throwing his hands up. “Every-fucking-body is always coming to her defense and trying to step in as her damn father and she’s fully capable of handling herself if you recall, throwing your arse back a few feet. She’s bloody well broken my nose and has hexed me on more than one occasion, so if there’s anyone who should be garnering concern for their safety it’s me!” he shouted with a finger pointing at his own chest.

“But I’m fucking crazy about her.” He continued, fueled up and not backing down. “And I’ll be damned if some mangy mutt relative of mine that I’ve known for five minutes tries to tell me what to do with her.” He marched up to the man, grey eyes boring into grey eyes, a trait he now realized was from the Black family. “If you even knew how my father really felt about her, you’d be directing some that disdain his way rather than my own.” He hissed in a low tone. “I’m one of the few out there protecting her at every turn, from other students as well whomever my father may have ordered to watch us.”

Tension crackled in the air between them for a moment as Draco wound down from his tirade and took in some slow breaths. If he had to defend his intentions with Hermione to one more person they were going to hobble away with just a stinging jinx to their sodding arse if they were lucky.

“Easy there.” Sirius cooed. “I just needed to see it for myself. I know she’s a capable witch but I’d be asking no matter who she was dating. Even if it was Harry.”

I highly doubt that, Draco snorted in his mind, eyeing the older man.

“You and I are not so different.” He said, watching the teen roll his eyes. “No, I mean it. Despite the environment we were raised in we’ve strayed from their beliefs and that is momentous. It’s happened more times than you think which should tell you in itself that the pureblood prejudice is utter horseshite.”

“I know it is. I’ve seen what her magic is capable of since we were eleven. She’s the top of every class and had never failed to execute a spell or potion. They call her The Brightest Witch of our year. So yes, I’m quite aware that the blood prejudice has no basis.”

Despite every time I called her a filthy little Mudblood…

“Just so you know,” Draco continued, “My mother actually supports my courtship and she mentioned Aunt Andromeda. In fact, they’ve actually been secretly in contact for years. We had a talk a few days ago.” He gave Sirius an once-over. “If you like, I can tell her you’re up and about and if you can scrape together some decent robes I’m sure she’ll be up for tea.” He added sarcastically.

The man smirked at the childish jab. “Oh aren’t you a delight.” He chirped with a little clap of his hands. “Never a dull moment when you’re around. I can see I’ve taken up much of your time and you’ve a very lovely witch waiting for you. I’m sure we’ll speak again so off you go.”

“Like I need your permission.” The boy snarked upon his departure, not looking back to see the older man’s amused smile and silent chuckle.  
……………………………..

They we were well into the heart of Hogsmeade before Draco finally had blown enough steam to converse. Hermione could literally hear his teeth grind and although it grated on her ears and she winced with every grit, she merely held onto his arm and walked at the brisk pace he set upon making their hasty exit from the inn without so much as a backwards glance at his friends. Everyone could go ride an unpolished broom for all he cared right now.

Although Remus had pulled them aside at the distance of at least three rooms from their own, they could still hear the raised and irritated voice of Draco as he passionately declared his feelings for the witch that everyone expressed concern for. They had all wisely agreed not to let on that they’d heard, given how the hallway shook with every thunderous stomp of his bespoke dragonhide shoes and sternly shot a venomous glare at the Gryffindors and his best mate. He might’ve taken her arm just a tad roughly but all he wanted was out of there and she wasn’t going to make a scene for a tiny infraction.

Now well beyond the hearing of either sensory endowed man he let out a breath and shucked a hand through his hair in exasperation. They’d wasted quite a bit of time in there and even thought the queue was no longer prominent outside the tea shop he was in no mood for entering it now. Being surly and wanting to kick something-or someone-did not bode well for being in a superfluously decorated dining room filled with fragile chinaware. 

“First Harry, then Hagrid, now Sirius…just watch, Snape’ll be next.” He growled. “I swear, one more utterly devoted, overly protective, haughty wanker comes at me with accusations or misconceptions of my intentions and we’ll have a full-blown investigation befitting the Ministry’s finest as to where the bodies are.”

“Charming as that sentiment is, Draco, please take a breath and eat a frog.” She calmly stated, digging into the bag that hung off the arm she was currently attached to. “You know everyone means well. Trust me; I feel the urge to stand up for myself in light of the unintentional sexism cast my way just because I’m a girl. They seem to forget I’m a witch unless my wand is in their face. I mean, why bother even teaching witches to use one if we are to stand idly by and let idiotic wannabe knights speak on our behalf?”

“So are you calling me an idiot or a wannabe knight now?” he sniffed, feigning indignation as she slapped the candy package in his hand.

“No you prat, I’m saying it as a whole, most of the males speaking on my behalf do mean well but should well remember just who it is they’re speaking about.”

He tore open the package and clamped his teeth on the frog before it got the chance to even ribbet and checked the interior for the collector card. It was a Rowena Ravenclaw in black & white. He tucked it into his breast pocket where it had less of a chance to be crushed. He heaved out a sigh. “All I wanted was one day you know? Just one. No secret meetings and rehashing information and dealing with twats like Flint. Just you and me.”

She came to a halt, causing him to stop a beat later. “We still can.” When he looked at her for clarification she continued. “Mostly everyone is here right? Then let’s head back to the castle.”

“What?” That was absurd, what were they going to do at the castle that they couldn’t do here?

Then before he knew it he was literally being strong-armed up to Dominic Maestro's Music Shop and crossed the threshold as he crammed the last bit of softening chocolate in his mouth. She immediately let go of his arm as she strolled over to the shelf containing various styles of wizarding radios, skimming over the selection for one that tickled her fancy. He crossed his arms and observed as she held up that telltale finger that signaled she was in heavy contemplation and weighing the option of size, extra features, and price before settling on one the size of bread box, colored in mint with simple toggles and no overly complicated looking parts to contend with.

She presented it to him with bright brown orbs and glittering lashes that fluttered as she gave her impression of puppy eyes and he felt his coin purse lighten as he was placing several galleons on the counter, not even hearing how much the shop keep said it was and told him to keep the change. Her little nose crinkle and shimmy of joy was worth whatever the difference was as she let out a little happy squeal and then jammed the radio into the enchanted bag.

“Alright now off to The Magic Neep!” she declared, clearly on a mission. It was all he could do to keep up with her as she left the music shop in a flurry of pink. She couldn’t be serious about more food could she? Yes they’d eaten roughly two hours ago but still…

Once inside he wasn’t all too surprised when she went towards the fresh produce and picked up a pack of strawberries. A round of cheese, baguettes, and bottles of non-alcoholic butterbeer later and she was at the counter, motioning for him to join her. Well, he had insisted on paying for everything, now that she’d gotten over her aversion to it and was yanking him around the town he felt like he’d finally won one battle. The grocer packed everything in a brown paper bag which she tucked gently in the crook of her arm when the man suggested a cheese knife and bottle opener.

At first Draco was going to decline, automatically thinking of the sterling silver set he knew to be nestled in the drawers of the massive Malfoy kitchens but then realized if they were off to have a picnic or whatever she had in mind that it just might come in handy. She could even keep them if she wanted. So he added them, along with the matching cheeseboard to their tally and placed the items right alongside the food. He held open the door as they exited, inquiring if there was anything else her little heart desired, watching her smiled widen.

“Just you and me and a willow tree.”  
……………………………….

“Seriously Sirius, did you have to poke the dragon?” Remus chuckled when he and the boys re-entered the room.

“Couldn’t help it.” He replied with a wide grin. “Had to see if was more like Lucius or Cissa, given his father’s death eater status.”

“Hope it was worth it. Draco can hold a grudge.” Theo warned, worrying for his own neck now.

“You don’t have to worry about her.” Harry reassured. “Honestly, he’s kind of right. I think we ought to be more worried for his well-being with their track record.”

“He deserved it.” Theo sing-songed. If he were a more of a betting bloke he might’ve put money down that something would go wrong that would leave Draco begging for forgiveness-once again-but he honestly was tired of the hot & cold and just wanted those two idiots to stop being so infuriatingly stubborn and prideful and just. Be. Together.

“Well now that our entertaining couple has left why don’t you tell us a bit about yourself Nott?” Sirius drawled, claiming the bed and stretching out as Remus slid into the comfortable chair. The boys were left with the round rug on the floor but given that they’d been in the dust-ridden Shrieking Shack it certainly was a step up. “How’s a snake like you end up friendly with a lion?”  
……………………………..  
Ronald and Lavender had thoroughly worn themselves out, having been the first time that either could really put themselves into it and not have to hold back due to the confines of a closet. Having room to lay out certainly improved how easier things went, as well as the opportunity to actually see more of each other. Naturally, Lavender had been a little shy about that, unsure if what Ronald had been touching measured up to what he envisioned but he was apparently pleased with the naked truth-quite literally.  
She’d had her reservations about the shack until he’d gone and told her everything that happened last year. Once she’d been completely convinced that the shack was indeed not haunted and even cleaner than she imagined she had no reservations about trying a few positions she’d read about. Knowing it could feel like that completely blew their little closet escapades out of the water and it was a shame they’d have to return to that after this. Unless they found an empty classroom and stayed hidden from patrolling prefects, groundskeepers, and ghosts.

As they were shuffling back into their clothing Ronald saw some brightly colored wrapping sticking to the bottom of his shoe and plucked it off, only to realize it was a candy wrapper. Taffy, to be exact, still soft and smelling of fruit and sugar. Fresh…Someone had previously been here…Someone who either felt no fear of ghosts or knew there were none to be bothered with…  
…………………………  
Neville again held the door open for Pansy to lead through after a scrumptious afternoon tea and conversation that thankfully veered off the subject of her father and onto nicer things, like his Gran’s baking recipes and garden, his devoted visits to his parents in St. Mungo’s, and his plans to take a career in Herbology since it was his best subject.

Pansy spoke of her desire to be taken more seriously as a pureblood socialite with her own actions and not just her father’s money. She hoped that given enough of a dowry and inheritance that she’d be able to pursue her passion for fashion and create a blend of wizarding and muggle clothing that would hopefully appeal to pureblood and muggleborn alike.

He found it fascinating and not that too unSlytherin, because it was truly clever to think of a product that would appeal to all wizarding kind and therefore have a more open market base rather than a select clientele. There were far too many shops that catered to pureblood elite and half-blood’s with money, leaving muggleborns to contend with lower quality goods and doing them no favors in presenting themselves as equals within the ranks.

As she talked he felt himself be slammed into with a pointed shoulder and an oof, followed by a string of explicatives in a familiar irate tone he’d know anywhere.  
……………………………  
Sirius rocked back with laughter at yet another anecdote from Theo, who’d been recounting the whole Draco-turned-into-a-ferret ordeal even though he’d been after Harry for something he said and was right there, he got to hear all about how he felt afterwards when they were safely back in the Slytherin dorms.

Even Remus, aghast that a professor would do that, had laughed at the colorful way Theo described it, especially with the sound effects he added. Then both Gryffindors had been reminded that Moody was indeed Crouch Jr and they’d yet to find the real one due to the map. They’d also been informed of Skeeter sneaking about in the halls, practically stalking Hermione since she’d been resorted.

“That woman...” Remus tsked, shaking his head. “She’s gonna get herself killed one of these days.”

Everyone was in agreement there. Rita didn’t know when to stop while she was ahead and she’d certainly underestimated the witch she was currently slandering when both the men perked up and turned to the window. A second later the boys could hear the shouts from down below.

“At least I’m not so desperate to go chasing any of Malfoy’s leftovers!” Ronald shouted.

“That’s rich coming from you Weasley, seeing as you treat your witch like some common plaything. Have some decency man; I know your mother taught you better than that.”   
Neville retorted, standing toe to toe against the ginger.

“Well at least I have a mum that still knows my name-” Was all he got out before Neville’s fist connected with his face, a spurt of blood gushed out and Lavender screamed like she’d been shot, immediately going after Pansy who backed up and let the blonde trip over herself and land face-first on the cobblestone pavement.

“Did Neville just seriously do that?” Theo asked, shock all over his face.

“He did. And we need to get down there.” Harry stated, already bolting from his spot and the room, leaving his Slytherin pal to linger or follow but the boy was gone, literally like a bolt.

“Uh, nice chat fellas.” He said, before grabbing his bag of goods and darting after him.

Sirius and Remus shook their heads and watched the drama unfold as the two boys ran up to keep the Gryffindors from tearing each other’s throats out and gathering a crowd.

“You know Moony, I think that kid’s alright.” He said, nodding with self approval.  
…………………………….  
Once they left the cobblestone path that gave way to gravel, which eventually faded off into the grass-covered grounds of the school, Hermione shucked off her heels and continued on barefoot as she and Draco headed over to the willow by the pond. The grass was soft and cool, warmed by the sun and a comfort after having her foot be arched for so long. Heels were a rarity in her wardrobe and other than practicing wearing them for yule she hadn’t given them a second thought. Although she liked the height they gave her.

Draco pulled out yet another of million other handkerchiefs she accused him of having from his dress coat and Engorgio’d it to become a blanket sized cloth that he spread out for them to sit on. “While I’m sure Pansy doesn’t mind you borrowing it to compliment your dress, I’m pretty sure she’d flip if you got grass stains on it.”

“Bah, grass stains should be child’s play for wizards to handle.” She scoffed, unclasping the top button and handing it to him. He neatly folded it and placed it in the far corner of their tablecloth. As she sat and adjusted her skirt he began pulling out the various items from their shopping excursion. Once the radio was in her hands she turned it on and fiddled with the selection of stations. He set out their healthy little snack and pulled out of the bottles of butterbeer.

He held up his bottle to make a toast. “Here’s to the most amazing witch this school has seen.”

Smiling, she held up hers. “And here’s to the most charming snake Slytherin has.”

“That I am.” He grinned, and took a sip.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smirk as he let him have his little ego boost. There were some things that would never change about him, wherever his loyalties or heart lied, he’d always have that particular trait. It wasn’t all that bad, all things considering. He was confident, and cocky because of it, they tended to go hand-in-hand.  
“So, you’d rather sit on the grass and nibble on finger food than go to a fine establishment with me?” he inquired, resting his forearms across his knees.

“That so-called fine establishment where we accosted by a classmate?” she laughed.

He tipped his head, giving her a point for that one. “But what if I took you someplace else? Away from here? If you could be anywhere?”

“Name a place where you wouldn’t be known on the spot.” She challenged.

There was a resounding silence to follow as he racked his brain for an answer. She understood, his family name had history, prestige, power. It would be an insult if he wasn’t recognized. In the air an unsettling truth hovered, their society would not be so willing to accept their relationship. He reached over with his free hand and placed it on top of hers.

“I would go to Muggle London.” He said. “I’d meet your parents, win them over naturally, and then insist on taking the lot of you out to the best there is to offer.”

“Naturally.” She let out a little snort. “You think you’d win them over that easily?”

He puffed his chest. “I think I already won the hardest to impress, didn’t I? After all, you are here on a date with me.”

“I may be on a date with you, but you clearly underestimate my parents if you think a charming smile and a few placating accolades will do the trick. Remember, I told them all about you. Needless to say, they don’t hold you in high regard currently.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Wow, I can’t even beat you in whose parents hate the either of us more because my mother is just gagging to have tea and talk with you and yours want me in a full body bind.”

“Again. Girl.” She stated, pointing at her chest. “Anyone with a daughter would be like that. Just wait until you have one. Heaven help those poor sods that even dare come asking permission to court her.”

In the moment she closed her eyes and tipped her head back for another sip of her drink, she missed the contemplative look that crossed his face, a brief glimpse into one of many possible futures they could share. He then cleared his throat and started slicing the cheese and baguette. They spent a few minutes nibbling on their snack, taking in the sight of a peaceful spring day and watched as birds flew and a rabbit scurried nearby for a drink at the pond. 

She sighed in content, then lay on her back to watch the clouds sweep overhead. At first Draco cocked his head, wondering what she was up to, but then slid down and nestled beside her, following the point of her hand as she instructed him to look at a certain cumulus cluster. After declaring it looked it like a rearing horse, he started to see it, and watched as it morphed with the wind into a stretched out winged unicorn before breaking off completely and moving along. Next were a howling wolf, a leaping rabbit, and something she said that was a statue of liberty-which was a famous landmark and art piece that was the symbol of America.

“You do this a lot?” he asked. “Just lay in the grass, stare at the sky and imagine things?”

“Don’t you find it relaxing?”

“I guess. I’ve never done this before. Not that I don’t use my imagination.”

“It’s a common pastime, mainly for children as it can be used as an exercise to expand their minds. As we get older and our brain adapts to what we know, sometimes it can be difficult to let our imagination breathe for a minute. This also is known as ‘grounding or earthing’ a way to reconnect back to nature. Have you ever walked barefoot at your home?”

Draco nibbled his lip in thought. It must’ve been ages ago, when he was merely a tot, wobbly on unsteady legs and holding his mother’s hands. A time when he could recall that both Narcissa and Lucius were happy. The memory pricked at his eyes and he turned his head away from her to wipe at the lacrimal caruncle of his left eye. “Not for a long time.” He finally said, when he heard the rustling of the fabric as her head turned towards him.

“No time like the present.” She pulled him up to sit, so they were practically eye to eye. “Come on, I let you blackmail me into letting you spoil me after all. Shouldn’t I get to make a request?”

“Oh you sneaky Slytherin.” He laughed. He instantly remembered the last time she told him to take off his shoes, the night that she asked him to stay with her after Crabbe’s attack. It still felt like a dream, her putting that much trust in him and showing her vulnerability. He’d stay every night if she asked him, though that would definitely lead to trouble. It was a miracle he hadn’t woken up with a stiffy poking her in the back. That would’ve been embarrassing. “As you wish.”

She giggled as he shucked off the loafers and slid his socks down, tucking them neatly into each shoe, and placing them right beside Pansy’s robe. “Something funny?”

“It’s just that…that phrase… “As you wish”…it’s in this movie called The Princess Bride, and the main character is this silent, kinda broody farmhand named Westley. All he ever says to Buttercup is ‘as you wish’ whenever she gives him an order. And eventually, she begins to realize that it’s more than just those words. In the narration, the voice clearly says that at one point she realizes he says ‘I love you’ when he’s handing her a pitcher of water.”

He looked skeptical. “And how is that romantic? He’s her servant…right?”

“Hired help, but you’re not completely wrong. He ends up going to sea to make a better living and provide for her. His ship is overrun by pirates and news gets back to her that he’s dead.”

“Oooh, go on.” he urged, loving how animated she became when telling a story.

“Five years passes as she mourns for him, but the prince of the land takes her to be his bride as a show of good humility to his people, but he has an ulterior motive for that which I’ll get to later. So now she’s known as Princess Buttercup and she goes out horseback riding and is captured by ruffians and bravely jumps into eel infested waters to escape them but they manage to catch her. One of them is a giant, another is a swordsman and they work for this unimpressive little man who uses the word ‘inconceivable’ quite often. As they’re climbing up a cliff face, a man in all black is pursing them and catching up to them quickly. He manages to win in the duel against the swordsman without killing him and it is one of the best swordfights I’ve ever seen in cinema, then he out wrestles the giant, which is kinda an inside joke since the man is actually a professional wrestler known as Andre the Giant, and then he outwits their boss with a game of drinking poisoned goblets of wine.”

He gave his ‘not bad’ face of approval. “Sounds like a pretty cool guy. But it’s Westley, isn’t it?” she nodded. “Ha, I knew it. The pirates didn’t kill him; they took him in and made him one of their own.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Are you sure you haven’t seen this?”

“I can testify that I have never, in my whole life, even come in contact with the muggle device known as a television, let alone seen anything that ‘picture box’” he added with finger quotes, “can show. Although I am curious as hell to do so.”

Cheer spreading on her face, she grabbed his hand and squeezed. “You’re going to love it! Oh this is great! We’ll have to get together sometime this summer and I’ll show you all my favorite films!” She quickly wrapped up the details of the film, leaving much out in case they ever got the chance to watch it. She hadn’t even told him about all the parts where the story cuts off and switches to the boy in bed with his grandfather-he wouldn’t have understood anyways.

Seeing her perk up at the thought of him coming to her home during the summer, meeting her parents, sitting in their home, watching the picture box and finally understanding a portion of what she often referred to. It sounded absolutely divine. Before he knew it she was pulling him to his feet and dragging him off the tablecloth and into the grass, the sensation startling to the soft pads of his feet that rarely ever went about naked. Grass certainly felt different when touched by hand in comparison, and he could swear it almost felt like a thick plush fur rug as he trudged along. It tickled and prickled in an oddly satisfying way. With the music swirling in the breeze around them he pulled her close, chest to chest, one hand at her hip and the other snaking up along her neck to nestle the back of her head.

“Why did you wear this for me?” he asked, leaning in close as her arms rested upon his shoulders.

She wet her lips, hesitant to answer. Surely he already knew.

“Because I saw the way you looked at me before you ran off. I didn’t recognize it then, not until my first day in a Slytherin uniform, when I saw it again. And you sought me out that night, there’s no way you just happened upon me accidentally. You wanted to see me.”

“I did.”

“Dance with me?” she asked timidly, her voice almost a whisper.

He chuckled. “I’m the one who’s supposed to ask that. But there’s only one thing I want more than to do that…”

Her eyes blinkingly searched his face for the answer. “Yeah?”

She felt his hand glide along the base of her skull and fought the urge to close her eyes and purr at the feeling. He searched at the juncture of the bun holding her hair up and felt a tug, releasing her riotous wave of hair in a cascading waterfall of chocolate silk. All but the braid secured along her hairline was down, Blaise’s hard work undone in an instant. With her hair straightened and polished back, it had seemed so much lighter and less voluminous and easier to tuck into a single but large bun. Now it fell smooth and down her back, over his arm and along the skirt of her dress, creeping into her peripheral vision until she had to turn her head and see it for herself.

The sight shocked her. 

Her hair was long. Like, actually really long. Down to her knees long.

“Oh my godddd…..” she gaped. She never would’ve guessed this was the true length of her tresses.

“Incredible…” he whispered, releasing her just to touch it. He ran his fingers through, completely tangle free. He picked up a handful and held it up for her to see, for her to touch and marvel. Whatever it was that Blaise had searched all over Europe for had been worth it. Whatever he wanted in return he was going to get. Draco would fucking polish his damn shoes by hand if that’s what he asked.

“I’m never going to forget this.” He promised, whether it was to her, himself, or her enchanting hair she didn’t know nor did she care. “So perfect.” He breathed. 

Hermione took a step back, watching the long strands of chestnut hair slip through his fingers as she continued stepping back, watching the length continue until it finally fell from his hand, and they were several feet apart. Her hair was longer than Cho’s, longer than the fiery red hair of Hufflepuff Susan Bones, and longer than both Patil twins. She gave herself a twirl, watching the once curly mahogany hair she had always known spill out into shimmering caramel strands of silk and swish against her once she finished her rotation.

Blaise was right. 

She felt pretty. She felt good about herself. And in return she felt that warmth of magic resonate in her blood. Her magic was humming in her bones and making her feel capable of anything. An added bonus was the way that Draco was taking her in like she was the only thing that mattered in the world. It made her heart flutter, or was that her stomach? Something fluttered, that’s all she could say. Goodness, this euphoria…no wonder people did stupid things in the name of love.

Draco stepped up to her, respectfully bowed and offered his hand, and asked her to dance.  
………………………………

Ginny and Luna were exiting the Leaky Cauldron, all smiles and gigglish chatter from their encounter with a love-struck Tracey Davis on the arm of Anthony Goldstein as they had a moment which left the strawberry blonde nearly crying with laughter. Apparently, Anthony was quite the comedian, who knew? 

“Love is in the air.” Luna stated matter-of-factly. “It is not just designated for Valentine’s Day.”

“And Love doesn’t discriminate between Houses.” Ginny added, catching some of her hair as the wind blew it across her face. “I just wish people could see that.”

Contemplative Luna looked on absentmindedly as if hearing a voice. “Eventually.”

“Eventually isn’t quick enough.” The redhead lamented. If only Ron could stop being so bitter over his loss of Hermione, just be happy he even has Lavender, and quick spitting vitriol at everyone she considered a friend and just see that there was more to the world than being a part of some Us vs Them kick.

Luna suddenly stopped, clutching her head and swayed, luckily Ginny caught her and helped her lean against the wall of the Leaky and watched as her friend’s eyes got that faraway look in them, orbs rolling back and a deeper, guttural voice slipped out.

“Where the lion and serpent meet, a grim future lies ahead. Rivers of tears and blood shall flow as the Chimera is cornered. Betrayal most foul! On the day of birth, one shall die.”

A bright flash caught Ginny’s eye as she spun to find Colin Creevey with his camera aimed at them. He looked utterly stunned as the redhead smartly marched up to him and grabbed the collar of his shirt and slammed him into the next building. Luna was coming to, snapping out of her newfound trance.

“The hell do you think you’re doing Creeve?” Ginny spat at him. “I ought to string you up by your camera strap and leave you to hang until curfew!”

“I-I’m s-sorry!” he stuttered, eyes as wide as saucers at the little ginger’s strength. “I-it looked like a g-good p-piece for the y-yearbook… Inter-house unity and friendships spanning across rivalries.”

Luna came up and placed a gentle hand on the spitfire’s shoulder. “It’s alright Gin, no harm done.”

Gritting her teeth, blue eyes blazing like a wisp’s fiery glow, she eventually released the terrified Gryffindor. “Don’t ever let me catch you with your camera in my direction again, you hear? I’m not some school project.”

“Course not.” He immediately stated. “No, never Gin, you’re an amazing friend and I wanted to showcase an example of it. You truly exemplify what it means to be a Gryffindor.”

His statement caught her off guard. “Oh.” She managed to say, devoid of all emotion except dumbfounded awe. “Well then…” Her face started creeping in bright pink with embarrassment. “Carry on then.” She motioned him away, feeling like a total arse for jumping down his throat like that.

Once he was well out of earing range Ginny turned to Luna. “What?”

Luna, having spent all that time recomposing herself, looking nonplussed and dreamy as usual, merely smiled like she knew a secret and wouldn’t tell. They say that Gryffindors are more prone to bravery than the other houses, but bravery reveals itself in different ways. It’s not always with words, but in actions. And not always in bold actions either.  
……………………………..


	59. Lovestruck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love and hate is in the air. That and a storm.

Harry and Theo came upon the scene on swift feet, stepping in between the two Gryffindors facing off with every bit of Panthera leo ferocity they had within themselves. While well aware of Ron’s tendency for quick temper and action, it was quite another to witness Neville Longbottom display it. 

But hey, Ron had insulted both his witch and his mother…

Pansy was standing just a few steps behind Neville, not from cowardice but an all too personal reason that had nothing to do with self-preservation. While probably not even aware of it, he was proving himself to be a worthy suitor for her. If she sent in this memory to her father then he’d sign a betrothal contact in a heartbeat. Besides, seeing that slag Lavender end up face down on the walkway was priceless. Otherwise she’d tear the bitch apart. But blood was difficult to wash out of material, even in the wizarding world.  
Harry grabbed Ron as Theo slid up to push back Neville, who had tasted blood and was ready for more. Suddenly the twins were there, grabbing their little brother and taking him off Harry’s hands, Blaise coming up and seeing if Pansy was alright, then stepping in front of her as Lavender got to her feet and made a pathetic attempt to grab at her a final time before Angelina Johnson took a firm grip on the young Gryffindor girl and yanked her away, muttering like an angry mother. 

Neville was shaking in rage, fist bloody and teeth digging into his bottom lip as he glared at Ron, being manhandled by his siblings and immediately admonishing him. They asked if Neville was alright, further infuriating their little brother and ignoring his indignation. The Slytherins and lone remaining Gryffindor turned and said that he was in good hands; he’d be taken care of, and started pulling him out of the street.

The dust settled and there was no more drama to behold, onlookers went their way. There was usually a fight or some sort of skirmish every other Hogsmeade trip. The school was rife with tension. Four opposing separate Houses. Blood prejudice. Relationships that had soured. Typical teenage bullshit. Wasn’t anything they hadn’t seen before and certainly not worthy to note, after all, there’d only been one strike.

“Mate, wow.” Blaise said, taking a look at Neville’s hand. “Never thought you’d have it in ya.”

“And normally he wouldn’t if Weasley hadn’t insulted either me or his mum. Idiot was begging to be punched.” Pansy declared, digging into her purse for a touch of Dittany and bruise paste.

“The fuck is wrong with him? He trying ta make enemies with the whole damn school?” Theo cried out loud, looking around the corner of the building they dragged Neville behind.

Pansy dabbed the Dittany on his hand, trying her best to not look so pleased, else Neville think she was some sort of sadist. Seeing him hurt didn’t give her the satisfaction of the idiot Gryffindors being dragged off by their own. Sure, they’d deal with the inevitable dressing down from McGonagall and the point deduction that would follow.

“Sorry Harry.” Neville said. “I know this is gonna set us back on the scoreboard.”

Harry shook his head. “I’ll take it. He had no right to say those things.” He glanced over at Pansy. “You alright?”

“Course I am.” She replied neutrally. “It’s not every day I get front row seats to a lion fight.” The last one being between Ron and Hermione while she still wore scarlet & gold. What a hell of a duel that’d been.

“Any of you seen our resident idiots in love?” Blaise asked the group, looking around. “Pretty sure had it not been you two it would’ve been them and we’d be lucky if half of Hogsmeade was left unscathed.”

“Nah, they’ve made themselves scarce today. Smart choice if you ask me.” Theo replied. “I’d bet they probably skived off and are in their own little world.”

“Well damn.” The Italian sighed, crossing his arms. “Was hoping one of yous caught the moment when he saw her dress.”

“What’s so great about her dress?” asked Neville, as Theo and Harry threw curious eyes his way.

“Oh she didn’t tell you?” Pansy laughed at Harry, who shook his head ‘no’. “She decided to alter her Yule gown for him. Made it shorter.”

“She what?” Theo and Harry chorused in unison. Neville’s jaw merely hung open.

She finished applying the bruise past to Neville’s knuckles. If they were lucky, the twins and Angelina were doing the very same thing to the Weaselrunt and his blonde bint and swearing them to silence. The group moved on from the semi shelter of the wall and took a random street just to be in the opposite direction of where the Weasley’s had taken, she and Blaise going back and forth about Hermione’s almost disastrous attempt to doll herself up until they intercepted and came to her rescue.  
……………………………..

“You know you’re on thin ice as it is!” Fred hissed, glaring down at equally stubborn and obstinate blue eyes as his twin finished wiping the blood away from their little brother’s nose and lip. Somehow Neville managed to hit both in one shot.

“Mum and Dad are nearly ready to pull you out of here for the year.” George warned.

“So what?” the youth pouted, arms crossed over his chest.

“Little bro, you’ve got some unresolved issues going on and keeping them bottled in like this is what’s causing you to blow up on people. Come on, you’ve attacked your two best mates and managed to get one resorted just to be away from you. Can’t you see how poisonous this behavior is?”

“Like you two have any room to get onto my arse about fights and shite like that.” He retorted.

“Hello? Twins?” they sang in unison.

“We do that.” Fred stated.

“Well you shouldn’t be getting a free pass because of it.”

“No one said we do.” George piped up. “We’re just better at not getting caught.”

“Plus we’re not royally pissed at Hermione like you are. And to think, they were going to resort you…”

“Yeah, just what do you think you’d be doing if you ended in Slytherin eh?”

“At least I’d have a reason to be in there. She doesn’t belong.” Ron groused.

The twins shared a confused look. He wasn’t harping on her blood status right? Come on, that was a load of bollocks and they all knew it. She was as ambitious as they came, and witty to boot. She was a perfect Slytherin. Muggleborn be damned, anyone who could wield a wand had a right to go to their school. Whatever it was that happened at Yule and after certainly struck hard and deep into the young Weasley and had festered like an untreated wound. They could only hope that he’d finally come to his senses, there was only two months left of school. 

“Come on,” Fred said, taking point. “Let’s get back to the tower before any other drama presents itself.”

Ron growled but had no choice. If he didn’t walk willingly he knew each brother would take turns with different hexes in order to get him to move.  
…………………………

Joining the cumulus, large swaths of the sky had begun to fill with stratus and nimbus, churning in the spring air. The breeze ebbed into occasional gusts and the sun dimmed with the thick cover that swept over its opulent rays. Not that a certain dancing couple took notice. In fact, other than each other they hardly noticed anything round them.

When Harry, Neville and their Slytherin gang started to head back to the castle, he’d suggested a quick stop at Hagrid’s hut for a little chat-which he’d been missing out on with everything going on-and took the not so familiar path from the Hogsmeade’s trail which led to the border of the Forbidden Forest and a little pond with a young willow.   
Blaise was, in essence, blazing a trail being at the head of the group, following Harry’s landmark instructions when he stopped them suddenly and motioned for everyone to take cover in the brush. Naturally he was met with skepticism and inquiries until he hoarsely whispered “It’s them!” with a frantic hand wave and ushered Theo and Pansy along, leaving the Gryffindors to either follow or stand there like idiots and blow their cover.

All crouched and hiding, peering through leaves and brickles and burrs, they observed the adorable couple as they danced to the music from the radio. The length of her hair startled all but Blaise and Pansy, who’d had the sole knowledge of it as they brushed her hair and piled it into one brilliantly tight bun. The others’ jaws hung open in confusion and awe as they tried to compute the new information with what they’d known for so long.

When Draco spun her, the lengthy tresses swayed with the flow, fanning out and swishing as it fell with gravity against her body. She was a sight to behold. 

A soft, distant rumble of thunder sounded off in the background, ignored as was most other things as he pulled her in close with one hand at her back and the other holding her aloft as they waltzed, barefoot in the grass, lost in each other’s eyes. He leaned in just a bit, whether whispering in her ear or kissing her neck, they couldn’t tell, but it was a sigh worthy observation.

“God…he really does care about her, doesn’t he?” Harry thought out loud, as if he still hadn’t believed it possible.

“Don’t worry, she’s falling for him too.” Came Pansy’s matter-of-factly reply. “Girls simply don’t cut up an already fine gown in the hopes to improve it unless they want to impress somebody.”

A more prominent roll of thunder made itself heard. Neville looked up at the sky. “Guys, it’s gonna rain. Should we tell them?”

“Absolutely not.” Blaise and Theo answered hotly. Not after all the hard work they’d been putting with these two.

“Then we should get going. Storm’s gonna be here quicker than you think. No time for visiting Hagrid.” He calculated, estimating the speed of the wind. 

Harry took point this time, leading the group into the barest edge of the forest where they could pass around Hermione and Draco unseen. Given that Pansy was wearing blaringly bright yellow anyone would’ve been hard pressed to miss her. Thankfully, their quarries were too involved in each other to notice, even as they stopped waltzing and Hermione leaned against the trunk of the young willow for breath.  
………………………..

“I never knew you were so well-versed in ballroom dancing.” Draco confessed as Hermione leaned the willow tree, one hand palming the trunk.

“As opposed to someone who has had lessons since he could walk?” she teased with smiled as he stood a little straighter at her jab.

“One more dance, I’ll be sure to sweep you off your feet.” He challenged, extending his other hand to her once again.

“You just want a reason to be touching me.” 

He pulled her in, right up to his chest and grinned most devilishly. “I would lying if I said that wasn’t part of it.” He backed up, leading her back out into the clearing and spun her so that her back pressed against his torso when he brought her back. A hand smoothed aside some of her remarkable hair, then ghosted lightly along the tendon in her neck. “Do I need a reason?”

Her eyes fluttered with the sensation, trying to not lose herself in the tingle. For once, her mouth just wouldn’t communicate and her brain couldn’t decide what words to use. A shiver rippled through her with a little sigh, and she felt his chest rumble with a suppressed chuckle. She couldn’t even be upset, knowing he was delighted in her reaction since it felt so damn good. It tickled, not just in the normal sense, but also in a deeper way that she was equating to a more mature level of pleasure. 

This boy was driving her mad. And this time, she was loving it.

She felt his arm sweep under her knees as he bent at the waist and scooped her up, spinning around and watching as she raised her arms outwards with a gleeful laugh before he nearly lost balance and decreased his speed, eventually coming to a breathless stop. “Well?” he said, gulping in air. “Did it work? Have you been thoroughly swept?”

Once her feet touched the carpet of grass she felt a cool breeze sweep across her back, flinging her illustrious long hair over her shoulder and in his face. He caught a handful and held them in place as the wind whipped up around them until it passed. In a moment where neither one could be entirely sure who moved first or how, they were wrapped up in each other, his hands cradling her face, her hands tugging on the lapels of his jacket as their lips met. It was an exploratory touch, soft and slow with apprehension. 

He’d been holding back the urge to kiss her since she first walked out into the Slytherin common room, dolled up and beautiful beyond his expectations. And when she had him secluded away between two buildings after showing him her dress, he’d barely begun to savor the brush of her lips before the interruption, it continued churning inside him, even as she took him by surprise at the back entrance of the Hog’s Head Inn, pressing him to the wall and rewarding his bravery with a harsh and passionate kiss that ended all too quickly.

Now, all he wanted was to savor the taste of her lips, a mixture of strawberries and butterbeer as his fingers threaded through silky hair he never once imagined her having and ruining him for life for he could never decide which style he preferred now. He breathed her in, every part of his body reacting to her touch as she pulled into him, her little hands crawling up his neck and playfully grabbing his hair as he leaned down more. He realized they were both barefoot, no heels of any sorts to add on height, and he was still much taller. But she fit him, flush against him, just perfect.

Inhaling through her nose, she noted the scents that permeated from his dress coat, a blend of pine and a musk of sorts that had a tangy hint, slightly citrus and earthy as well. In all the times she shared in hugs with her fellow Gryffindor boys, neither one of them had tantalized her olfactory senses like this. They were a grubby blend of sweat, Quidditch pitch turf, and residual crumbs of lunch and a botched potion or two. God bless Harry but he needed a more regulated bathing schedule. Whether it was good genetics or good products was yet to be proven, but she wouldn’t have Draco any other way, with hair as soft and airy like it was spun candy floss.

With lips that tasted of butterbeer and baguettes that were gently slanting across hers with all the time in the world, she felt something jerk in her chest, like an epiphany in her mind, only it was a tangible force that indicated something had changed in the way she felt about him. It had gone from a fragile truce into a curiosity and became an unlikely friendship that blossomed into a shy affection before he’d somehow slithered in past her defenses and stolen her heart.

The realization was daunting, the heat emitting from her chest the most intense feeling that part of her body had ever experienced, more potent than a warming charm or basking in the summer sun. It was enveloping, encompassing, seeping into her bones and flowing through her veins and creating prickling gooseflesh along her arms, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Her hair swished about her, fluid as if she were underwater and it had a life of its own.

She felt his hands trail down her arms and rest at her waist, tucking his fingers in tight into the fabric of her dress and holding onto her like a lifeline. When they pulled apart for a release of air, she felt light-headed and slightly wobbly although she couldn’t feel the ground. Taking the opportunity like any true Slytherin, he nudged his nose along her neck, causing her to arch back, shifting her hair and exposing just enough for him to latch onto. 

He spent only just a few seconds suckling the dip in her clavicle, just enough for a little mark that would fade come morning, but lasting enough for any wizards looking her way to know she was a claimed witch. He loved how her eyes would take on that dreamy glaze before closing, giving in just in that brief second.

“Hermione…what are you thinking about?” he asked.

“Hhhhhmm?” she seemed a little steeped into a stupor to appropriately respond. “I don’t think I’m thinking of anything…just living in the moment.”

He took in their surroundings, seeing how the sky was darkening, the wind picking up, but that was not nearly as important as their current predicament. He glanced down. It wasn’t that they were high up, but a sudden fall would most certainly hurt. And he knew he wasn’t causing this.

Her eyes were still closed as she rested her head against his shoulder.

“H-how are you feeling?” this time his voice was nervous and wavered enough to catch her attention. Before she could raise her head, he placed a hand to the back of her skull and gently held her to him. “No, not yet love.” He soothed her hair in comfort. “Just…I just wanna know.”

Nestling into him she sighed. “I’m happy.” She answered plainly. “Happier than I’ve felt in…gosh, all year I guess.”

He nodded and nibbled his lip. “Would you say…it’s like…oh you know, walking on air?”

She giggled. Cliché but cute. “Yeah, something like that. Why?”

A lump wedged in his throat. “Because…we uh, kinda are….”

“Hahaha, god Draco you are such a hopeless romantic.” She teased, finding it the most endearing trait of his yet.

“No darling…I’m serious. Just don’t panic.”

“What?” Immediately she was on alert, jerking her head up and flashing her eyes open and taking in the elevated scenery. It was then that she clung to him like a cat, which he had prepared himself for. Still, the girl had a grip.

“What are you doing?” she cried, estimating themselves to be near ten feet high. “P-put us down!”

“I’m not doing it!”

“Draco!” she warned.

“Hex me if makes you feel better but I am certainly not doing this…”

“You think I’m at fault?” A crack of thunder startled her so much that she shrieked and nearly climbed him, as if ascending to more height would somehow solve their current situation. “Merlin’s balls! This can’t be happening.”

“Hermione, breathe first, then think.” He ordered, rubbing her back soothingly. A few seconds of him doing that and she had calmed enough to gather her thoughts. She was whimpering and mumbling under her breath, cursing the heavens and everything underneath and praying for salvation from said heaven in the same sentence.

Her mind ran hamster wheels so fast that the little furball flew off but left the metal device spinning in its momentum, memories and conversations about her magic playing in her mind in a flood. The first time she’d displayed her newly tapped ability, McGonagall thought it might’ve been feminine hormones at play whether she knew it hadn’t been that time of the month or was just giving her an out. Then after the dodgeball game and her duel with Ron, Snape and Dumbledore told her that wandless and nonverbal spells were fueled by emotion. Anger being one of the most potent and powerful. But in all her years of being raised on fairytales the end result was the same. The most powerful force to contend with was Love.

It woke the slumbering. It could override transformations. It could revitalize the dead.

She was experiencing her first taste of Love and translating it in the way her muggleborn brain had always heard it described…as being lighter than air.

“Do you know what to do now?” he asked her, having watched her hamster wheels spin. He knew she had reached a conclusion, now she needed the solution.

A cold drop of water fell on her shoulder, eliciting a shocked gasp and a break in her concentration, causing them to dip sharply. After a mild freak out she uprighted them and met his eyes. It was silly, but she distinctly remembered the Tea on the Ceiling scene from Mary Poppins. While laughter brought them up, sad thoughts brought them down. Peter Pan had taught kids that happy thoughts and pixie dust could grant flight, and a disruption in that thought pattern had brought Wendy down. All she had to do was literally come down from her high.

The rain was certainly helping to give her food for thought as the sprinkling became steady. “Think sad thoughts?” she said, uncertain.

“I don’t want to ruin our day by thinking of something like that.” He said. “Just…I don’t know…think of lowering yourself, slowly?”

She bobbed her head up and down nervously. Steeling her nerve with a meditative breath, she began to envision their descent, eyes closed and lips set firmly. It was all so clear in her mind’s eye that it came as a shock when her feet touched damp grass. She nearly burst into tears, immediately pulling out of Draco’s grip and latching onto the young willow as it to prevent herself from floating away. “Oh god, I’m so sorry.” She shuddered, hugging the tree for dear life.

For a brief moment, Draco was at a loss as to what he should say, let alone do in response to what just happened, but a more prominent and closer crack of thunder made the decision for him, prompting him to whip out his wand and levitate everything back into their extendable bag, leaving the open bottles of butterbeer out as rain water started sliding in. At least the bread hadn’t become a sogged down pile of peat moss. He yanked up Pansy’s pink robe and flung it over his arm, then pointed at the tablecloth and made it wrap up itself, their shoes tucked in the bundle and it too followed suited.

He came to her and held out the robe, draping it across her shoulders and fastening the top button, seeing as her hands were shaking too badly to get a grip on the fasteners. Firmly taking hold of her right hand, he led her away from the tree when another rumble and a flash tore through the sky, triggering her into a sprint before he could even make the offer. Holding each other’s hand they ran through the wet grass, the softening dirt which became mud, and the puddles that filled in little divots in the ground as the rain started coming down heavier by the second. It started out as a terrified dash and with every splash and squelch became a joyful sprint, little laughs and happy heavy breaths as they darted around rocks and equipment for the Care of Magical Creatures class.

By the time they’d reach the back wall of the East wing they were caught between laughing and wheezing, leaning against the castle wall to catch their breath, soaked in through the skin for the most part. Draco rolled his head along the stones and landed his gaze upon her, drenched with ruined makeup, hair darkened with water so that it looked nearly black, cheeks flushed from the run, chest heaving in exertion. Absolutely breathtaking.

Without warning he braced his hand against the wall and loomed over her shorter form, his other hand pressing her arm in place against the building as he stole a kiss, ever so curious as how she’d feel with her skin chilled and dampened. The rain had washed away the sweet taste that had been there before, replacing it with cool Scottish unfiltered and natural rain. 

She still tasted perfect. Like nature and magic personified.  
………………………….

As with any boarding school under a deluge of heavy rain, the halls had become a slippery mess and Peeves was having the time of his ghostly life with giving Filch hell after the man would finish mopping one corridor, only to flood another with all the sopped up rainwater and tip the bucket across the floor.

“Fucking worse than those Merlin-forsaken Weasley twins.” He muttered, mopping the same hall for the third time in a row. “Bastard better be happy he’s already dead or I’ll kill him all o’er agin!”

An influx of owls and Floo messages arrived, informing the headmaster and professors of students caught in the storm and had taken refuge in the various Inns of Hogsmeade to wait it out. Most of them were old enough to be out a little past curfew, as the older kids were the last to return. A few of the younger ones were corralled together in groups under the watchful eye of the proprietors, serving them up a dinner and a spot of tea to keep warm.

Dinner in the Great Hall had a few less voices and faces, not that it would’ve mattered to the Slytherin table at all. Everyone was all a twitter with their various adventures, the most prominent being the one where Neville clocked Ronald a good one. They were of course, receiving scathing looks from Dean and Seamus whom Harry and Neville knew would lead to another uncomfortable night in their dorm.

A collective gasp had followed in the wake of Hermione’s entrance, her newly straightened hair hanging down to its full length glory, causing jaws to unhinge and people to rub their eyes and do a double take. Arriving in soaking wet, she and Draco headed off to the designated bathrooms and ran themselves hot showers, peeling off cold, wet, muddy clothes and trading them in for something loose and comfortable. She was in jeans and cashmere sweater, a pair of slip-ons on her feet. Draco assured her the house elves would get everything pristine, even her shoes.

So unused to her hair, she accidently sat on it when she first climbed into the seating bench, shuffling in her spot as she flung handful after handful out from under her bum. Now it draped along the floor-which wouldn’t do at all-so Tracey ordered her to turn, facing Draco, and started braiding it. Oddly enough, after the day they had, with all the things that had been said and how they passed the time, she somehow couldn’t bring herself to look directly at him. So once she finished her meal she had the girls accompany her to the lab and sighed heavily against the door once it was warded and silenced.

Immediately the girls pounced, firing question after question, overlapping in their impatience to know a certain fact, squealing with fangirl delight when she answered.

Yes, he loved the dress.  
Yes, he bought her things.  
Yes, he held open doors and pulled out chairs and offered his arm.  
Yes, he absolutely adored her hair.  
And yes, they kissed.

Then her cheeks flared with bright pink heat and she fanned herself, groaning as she shook her head, sinking to her bum on the floor with eyes brimming with unshed tears to the concern of her new Slytherin sisters.

“What’s wrong?” Pansy demanded. “What did he do this time? I’ll kill him.” She declared, cracking her knuckles and flexing her fingers.

“He was absolutely perfect. That’s what!” Hermione wailed, further confusing them.

Tracey and Millicent shared an eyebrow raising look before turning back on her. “How is that a bad thing?”

“Because…Because now…the bar is set so high, you can’t surpass the summit once you’ve reached it.”

“True as that statement is, Hermione, what’s wrong with the perfect date?”

She wiped her eyes. “God damn it…I think I love him…” she confessed in a terrified whisper.

The trio sucked in gasps with wide eyes and covered their mouths to prevent the squeals from pouring out. There was suddenly a flurry of happy teenager hand flapping, beaming smiles, laughs, squeaks and awws and a torrent of them gushing about all the ways he’d be the perfect husband when they were of age. Pansy and Tracey went on to discuss their own perfect dates, and no one would’ve guessed that a fight, a joke that caused someone to spew their butterbeer out through their nose, and a dance in the rain would be the things that made the key factor in making their dates absolutely splendid.  
…………………………

“Ahhhhh.”

Theo rolled his head as he marked the corner of his sketchbook with another slash. This was the seventh sigh in as little as ten minutes. Draco was sprawled on his back, arms folded in under his head, eyes lost in space and positively glowing with such happiness it was nearly disgusting. 

Blaise snickered, soothing down his throw blanket as he nestled in against his pillows with his book. He and Theo had a running bet on how long it’d be before their blond roommate broke and started spilling the details. Any minute now. He’d been sighing way too much to not have something on his chest. 

“Gods…she was absolutely perfect today…” he sighed, ignorant of the cheesing grins his roommates cast at each other. Looked like Theo would be paying up this time. In galleons or in candy, Blaise would decide later. For now, they wanted to hear all the juicy details of his “absolutely perfect witch” and what had him grinning like the world’s biggest idiot.

Theo didn’t mind having to pay up, his time estimation hadn’t been as specified as Blaise’s had. And he’d been there for the whole “Sirius Situation” which still had him in stitches when he thought about it. Although, little miss perfect Hermione had scared the shit out of him with her wand at his throat. Now he understood perfectly why Draco cowered away from her! She was an absolute force to be reckoned with. 

“Mmm hmm.” Blaise murmured along, nonchalantly turning a page although he hadn’t read a single word.

“Did you see her hair?” he asked dreamily. Obviously, he had forgotten who had spent hours on it, or who had sat across her at the dining table as it was being braided. Girl had tower-climbing worthy hair, that was for sure.

“And her dress?” he continued on. “Can you believe she did that?”

Theo nodded. “Pretty shocking, right?”

“Shocking…” Draco echoed, his voice light and airy, his eyes a thousand miles away. Shocking was certainly one word he’d use to describe her. “She has the softest lips and the brightest eyes and the cutest freckles…”

His roommates put down their perspective items and rounded their gaze on their lovestruck idiot as he spoke to himself, drowning in adoration, sinking further and further into dreamland. Hermione held the sun and the moon and his heart simultaneously, juggling the three without a care. He heaved another sighed and flexed his fingers, gushing about the silkiness of her hair, the niceness of her skin, and the way she smelled.

“Oh for the love of Merlin, make it stop!” Blaise cried, covering his ears. “I do not need to know these things about her.”

“You’d think he’d downed a love potion or two with this endless praise and prattling. My god, I think I liked it better when he denied everything.”

“What the heck were we thinking, helping set him up with her?”

“I dunno; guess we’d thought it make him shut up.” Theo shrugged. 

“I’m the luckiest wizard in the history of Hogwarts….” That sickening sighing voice simpered as he started dozing off.

“Oh thank Salazar; I was worried I might have to kill him just to get a good night’s sleep.”  
……………………………..  
SUNDAY May 7th 1995

The storm raged on through a good portion of the night. Wind howled and whistled, whipping tree branches and flags in its grasp as buckets of rain cascaded down. The crackling thunder and lightning was erratic and loud, causing a few lost hours of sleep until the worst of it passed and then it became a soothing ambiance that lulled the tense occupants into slumber.

The grounds were a muddy mess. Damage to the Quidditch stands meant no practice for the day. A few animals in Hagrid’s care had gotten frightened and ran off into the forest, so tea at his hut was off for now. If students wanted to go to Hogsmeade they could but they were to exercise the decency to remove the mud off their boots before entering any establishment and the castle upon their return.

During breakfast, Hermione decided to bequeath her girlfriends their individual bracelets in a public, collective gathering by calling over to Angelina and motioning for her to cross the Great Hall to her Slytherin table, then doing the same to Cho, Padma, Luna and Ginny. The boys were subsequently scooted over as she waved her hand for Pansy, Tracey, and Millicent to get in close and see what she had for them. Off to the end of the new line that had formed from this was Daphne, with a look one might call curiosity and hope that she’d be included, although she tried remaining aloof.

Surrounded by a gaggle of girls-more than she’d ever had in all her years before-Hermione pulled out the first bracelet from the little bag in her hands. The cat charm gave it away immediately, it was for Millicent. She turned to the girl that had once been a bit of a bully to her and attached the woven strand of colored thread around the girl’s held out palm. She had the foresight to make this one a little lengthier than the rest to accommodate her thicker wrist. Millicent was taken back by the gesture, adoring the feline shaped charms and colors selected.

Next came Luna, with a pair of sunglasses, a rabbit, and a moon charm on her bracelet. Ginny with the bold colors of Gryffindor and a horse, a heart, and a broom. Padma’s had a book, a ballerina, and a goat. Tracey got a more modern item like a TV to go along with her butterfly and flower, and for Cho she had a swan, the Chinese glyph for water, and a fist. For Angelina she had chosen a camera, a broom, and the scales-which she explained represented her ability to tell the twins apart and keep them in line, which earned a laugh out of nearly everyone at the table.

The guys watched on as Pansy’s pink and yellow bracelet adorned with a unicorn, a dress, and high heel came out and she squealed with unabashed delight. What followed was the first time Pansy had demonstrated a straightforward public display of affection for the Chimera, pulling her into a hug and thanking her for the gift. Following came a chorus from the other girls, jangling their wrists and showcasing their unique gifts to each other and pointing out how the items suited them so well, and how she just knew what everyone’s favorite color was. Tracey kept her lips sealed on that one, shooting Hermione a wink.

Such was the scene that no one heard the snort of disdain coming from Daphne as she pushed her plate away. Theo, who had been scooted down to her side to make room for the influx of estrogen, heard though.

“Maybe if you weren’t such a bitch to her, you’d have one too.” He stated lightly, in a low voice meant only for her ears.

“Like I need one.” She scoffed.

“Not fun, being left out, is it?”

“Fuck you Theodore.” She snarled, nails digging into her drinking glass.

“You’re not my type.” He quipped.

She slammed it down and shoved away from the table, making sure her bag cuffed Theo alongside the head in her departure. It was just a stupid muggle thing; she didn’t need to be included in the little golden princess’s circle of friends. But she did have to go and make such a fucking show of it didn’t she? Calling attention to the whole damn school and then some to hand out little gaudy trinkets that could’ve easily been passed to each in private. Now everyone knew that Daphne Greengrass wasn’t deemed worthy by the Great Hermione Granger and her fucking fan club.

After breakfast, the group had congregated on the main staircase and discussed what they’d be doing for the day, since Quidditch, visiting Hagrid, and their karate lessons were cancelled. Draco insisted that he needed to return to Hogsmeade and Hermione was to go with him, no room for arguing. She alluded that the lab was available for a certain couple if they wanted a more private setting for the day, having adjusted the wards to allow Neville entry. At that, the girls giggled and the guys made little “oooh” sounds just to see him squirm under pressure.

“Actually, Luna and I have an appointment with Professor Trelawney so we’ll see you later.” Ginny said, having convinced the soft-spoken Ravenclaw that she needed to get some insight to her Sight from the school professional. 

“Hey Hermione, you mind if we play your music?” Tracey asked, blue eyes bright with the prospect of educating her pureblood friends on some muggle music. “Heard your dad is a Zeppelin fan?”

“Yeah.” Hermione nodded. Pansy had told her all about that ghastly naked flying man shirt of hers, to which Tracey slapped her knee and laughed telling her that they were a great band. “You know how to use it?” She couldn’t help but ask, despite Tracey’s half and half lifestyle. 

“Course I do.” she chuffed. “I’ll make sure no one else manhandles it either.” She held up her hand and placed the other over her heart in a solemn vow. “You two go do your thing and we’ll just hang out.”

“Hang out.” The brunette repeated in a slower cadence. “You guys realize that’s my lab right?” she turned to Draco. “Didn’t I say I wasn’t going to turn that place into a hookah lounge?”

“Trust me, they’re not going to sabotage your project and risk not only your wrath, but Snape’s as well. It’ll be fine.” He took her hand and started pulling her away before she could protest more. Before she knew it, her little sanctuary had been designated as multi-house hang out, with protective charms in place over the lab equipment and the inter-house couples each bringing in their items to transfigure into plush cushions for sitting on and Crookshanks following in after them when they smuggled in snacks.

On a post-rainy day, what else were they to do? More homework? Ha!

Donning a pair of snug jeans that left no curve of her body to the imagination, wand holster strapped to her right leg, a pair of knee high boots with a three inch heel laced up over them, and a Spice Girls band shirt with a black cardigan and her bouquet broach pinned to it for good measure, Hermione was just as lovely in this complete switch from her fancied up attire the day before. Her hair was still neatly plaited in the fishbone braid that Tracey had spelled to dedicated perfection to not leave a strand out of place. It had only taken her hair up a couple inches, still leaving a thick rope trailing along her back that was tied off in that classic Slytherin green ribbon.

After all, she was Slytherin now.

Draco chose a far more relaxed approach to dressing, leaving the dress coat behind and just opting for a long sleeve turtleneck in charcoal grey and black wool pants-definitely made for being outdoors-and shin length dragonhide boots that carried a slight burgundy hint to the scales in the light. He took her hand and led her down the path from the rear of the castle, often known as the Hogsmeade’s path until they reached the actual roads and slowed to the bare minimum of walking pace.

They’d been quiet the whole time.

“Sleep well?” he offered up a weak ice breaker. He slept like a baby. Storms had a tendency to do that to him. Then again, they were down in the bowels of the Black Lake so no matter how the thunder had clashed and the rain slammed, it was muffled a dozen times over.

“I did.” She answered quickly, although it had taken her a bit to finally get there. “So, what’s our destination today?”

“Don’t you remember? You were supposed to endure at least thirty minutes in Spintwitches and let me buy you something from in there.”

She threw her head back and let out a strangled sigh. So much for him forgetting that part. Leave it to that pratty dragon to not even let a raging thunderstorm stop him from dragging his girlfriend into a sporting good shop. But she conceded gracefully, after all, he gave in to her request for the picnic. Maybe she might surprise him and find something she absolutely couldn’t live without in the first five minutes and be done with it….

Thirty minutes had come and gone. And they were still inside. Testing brooms.

She should’ve known.

Couldn’t very well be the girl of the Slytherin House Quidditch Seeker and not have some sort of flying skill now could she? He walked her through the basics of broom structure-and no, they weren’t all the same-and pointed out the subtle differences that each type catered to. Speed obviously had narrow hilts with a tapered down tip and small seats. Stability had thicker hilts, wider seats and further spaced out footrests. Then you had your agility brooms which needed to be able to handled being flown upside down, sideways, and be able to spin on a dime. Those he preferred, being a Seeker. His movements would have to be as erratic as the little golden ball itself, not unlike speed brooms which were more straight forward, generally for racing or used by those training to be Aurors.

It was a lot of information to take in. Insightful and educational, and it helped her to begin to see differences in how each member of the team played. Having a Nimbus 2001 and Harry having his Nimbus 2000 meant that both were fast chargers that could control the slightest variation in their flight to change their trajectory on pure reflex. It was almost like manual control, driving stick as compared to automatic with the additional charms in place.

The proprietor, knowing the young Malfoy on sight-as if his hair alone wasn’t an indicator to who he was-took it as his personal mission to help him find his lovely witch a broom she could handle on her own and put the duties of the store in his employees hands as he led them into the back, following a long wall of pinned up brooms and out to their own designated patch of land for testing. So, after the lengthy in-depth lesson on broom types, now came time to apply the knowledge and see what fit her best. He knew for certain that she would not be going for speed, but he still wanted her to feel what it was like to ride one regardless.

What followed had been quite the spectacle. 

What it ended with was a promise nearly sworn to an Unbreakable Vow, a thousand apologies, more bumps and bruises than he thought could happen with mere test riding, and one purchased Zephyrus with extra stabilizing charms added in and a customized seat of periwinkle and the metal finishings coated in white gold to accent the blonde wood.  
Everything aside, it still felt like a victory. He’d managed to get her to agree to having her own broom, fighting tooth and nail every step of the way. The color of her seat reminded him of a certain customized order he had waiting for him at Scrivenshaft's. But how he was going to retrieve it without arousing her suspicions or ruining the surprise would be the real feat of today.   
……………………….

Hermione felt the tail end of her braid yanked, her head jerked back so quick she heard a crick in her vertebrae as her vision took a complete 180 and her spine arched painfully. Her newly acquired broom clattered to the cobblestone. 

Draco was pelted with a heavy force from behind, something striking his lower back and behind his knees, causing him to fall forward and crash land on his kneecaps, the clash reverberating through his whole body causing his teeth to clatter painfully. He barely managed to palm the ground before his face could meet it.

“Thought I told you not to be taking that Mudblood filth of yours where she doesn’t have the right to be?” an oily voice hovered over them. An all too familiar voice spewing the same drivel as the day before. His fist clenched a good amount of braid as he loomed over the Slytherin traitor.

Draco looked up, surprised to see Crabbe and Goyle right along with Marcus Flint, now henchmen to another and turning on their former friend. From his position on the ground he got to experience the full effect of the larger goons and their intimidating build. They’d always been bigger than him, hence the reason he chose them, and now he was on the receiving end of his former hired muscle.

On this somewhat dreary, muddy Sunday, Hogsmeade wasn’t as bustling as it was before. Majority of students choosing to stay at the castle and take advantage of the off-day to relax or catch up on studies. Those who were in Hogsmeade weren’t milling about in the street currently. It was unfortunate then, but for who would remain to be seen.

Marcus grabbed Hermione’s wand right out of its holster, laughing like he’d won the House Cup and twisted her hair so that she had to crane her neck and go with the momentum or be knocked to her knees. She had a perfect view to the little show they put on, Crabbe sinking a meaty palm into Draco’s shoulder and digging into his clavicle so he would be distracted enough to not intercede the right hook from Goyle connecting with his cheek.

Crabbe kept him upright as Goyle laid a left into his gut, then Crabbe released him and Draco fell over into the muddy cobblestone in a sickening thud to a triad of laughter.

“Maybe seeing your little prince brought down to your level might teach you a thing or two about your place in life.” Marcus laughed in her ear, his breath hot and faintly smelling of the alcoholic variety of butterbeer. So not only was he orchestrating this little coup but he was also engaging in underage drinking. Hermione tucked that little nugget of information for later as she hissed in pain on the grip of her braid, feeling her magic rise and this time, welcoming it.

“Lookie there, bought you a fancy little broom for your perky little ass to fly around on too.” He continued. “How sickenly sweet.”

“Ooh that’s a nice one, ugly ass seat cover though.” Vincent added in, plucking it off the ground. “What’s a wingless bird like you gonna do with this eh?”

“Get your hands off her.” Draco ordered, finally having caught his breath and pushed himself free of the pavement.

“Or what? Gonna run to big daddy Malfoy? Ha!” Flint barked. “I think it’s highly unlikely that he actually approves of this.”

“That’s not…your concern.” He seethed, clutching his gut and trying to ease his double vision. Now was not the time to pass out.

Feeling her own wand pointed at her throat, Hermione narrowed her eyes at Flint and patiently channeled her power into a focal point. Crabbe smacked Draco in the back of his head and sent him reeling into the street again and this time, he was slow to recover. A rage unlike anything she’d felt coursed up her spine and as Flint laughed and turned to mock her that’s when she made her move. She released her grip to her hair and lashed out against him, a mighty Depulso coming from her fingertips and into the older teen’s chest, and suddenly he was flying.

In the sudden distraction both goons lost sight of their prey and turned to see where Flint’s body had crashed into the face of the building from all the way across the street. Draco coughed and groaned, feebly trying to push himself up from the cobblestone when Crabbe made to move on him again.

Big mistake.

Hermione whipped her head back up, braid flying and landed a quick throat punch to Goyle-who was closer-before taking a two-step leap straight at Vincent and clung onto his chest as she planted a foot on his thigh and literally climbed the larger boy, just to wrap her legs around his neck and then swung herself towards the ground in a well-practiced tumble that she was prepared for. She barely even felt the ground as she rolled.

When Crabbe went down, he stayed down.

Then Goyle tried grabbing at her, only to have his right leg immobilized by the full weight of Draco clawing into it and held on with a death grip in order for Hermione to strike true with a roundhouse to his thick face. His head bobbled for a second before his knees gave out and he fell right where he stood, with Draco barely able to scoot out of the way. She immediately pulled Draco to his feet, wobbling and clutching his head, wincing at the ringing in his ears and taste of blood in his mouth.

The fight had started bringing attention to those in shops, people pushing each other out through doors to spectate. Surprisingly, it was Professor Sprout who came running up to the sight of a bloody and battered Malfoy and took him from Hermione’s hands in order to lead him away when Flint, finally back on his feet and staggering out a ways into the street, started threatening to remove Draco off the Quidditch team by unsavory means when Hermione had had enough.  
………………………………

Marcus never had been a smart fella, but the moment he saw Hermione’s normally muddy eyes turn gold and flash at him, he realized he may have pushed her too far. But it was too late. He’d made the threat and her face took an eerie calm before she did the thing with her eyes, and she changed her stance, turning to the side and bent her knees, taking her right fist and pulling it back to her side, before pushing outward with a mighty gust following.

His back met the wall-again-and as he sputtered with the air knocked from his lungs, she did it again, that punch with some sort of wind spell or whatever it was, and he was gutted all over again, wheezing with tears in his eyes as he struggled to breathe.

“You like talking down to people Flint?” she asked, voice oddly sweet sounding. “Then maybe I should provide you with a new vantage point.” Her fist turned into an upward claw and he felt his ankles grabbed by an invisible force yanking him away and up.

And up.

And up.

Onlookers were craning their necks upward, following his airborne form as she stood in the street, fingers curled like talons, eyes still glowing with that bone chilling golden glint. People milled about now, murmuring their concerns but keeping a wide berth around the witch. 

“Go on now, say something.” She teased, teeth gleaming that sent shivers up his spine. “You were saying what now? Hmmm? Something like Draco better be lucky there’s no Quidditch this year or else he’d have a rogue Bludger his way?” She cocked her head to the side, keeping eye contact with him. “That sounds an awful lot like a threat to me…. And I don’t take kindly to such things.”

Someone had called out to her, telling her to put him down. She flexed her claw-like fingers and he felt the grip on his ankles loosen, then tighten, causing him to cry out and flail his arms. The grin across her face told him she knew exactly what she was doing.

The crowd was starting to become frantic. She had plenty of witnesses around should anything happen, surely she wouldn’t let him fall to his death? When her name was called once again, sharply and authoritative this time, she released her hold and he felt himself plummet, a shrill scream ripping through his throat as he plummeted the ground with alarming speed. Uselessly he put his hands out but felt nothing. 

Opening his eyes, he found her standing closer to him, her palm upturned, halting his decent to the ground. Then she dropped her hand, and he felt the muddy ground face first, the shocking cold of it causing gasps and shuddering breaths as he turned to upright himself.

“Do not come near either of us again. Or any of my friends for that matter.” She ordered darkly, her eyes back to brown and focused on him. “I hear Gladrags is having a sale on knickers, you may want to get yourself a new pair.” She chuckled, the warm wet stain in the crotch of his pants evident for everyone to see. He sputtered and scrambled away, slipping and practically covering every inch of his clothing in mud as he retreated down and alleyway.  
…………………….

Hermione felt a haze in her head as she took in her surroundings. The details were all a blur but she remembered Crabbe and Goyle pummeling Draco, then exuding a powerful blast to get Flint off. Now, looking around, she found herself in the middle of the street, with dozens of people looking at her, talking, whispering, pointing, shrugging and gesturing as to what happened. 

A redheaded Hufflepuff bounded up to her, holding out her retrieved wand and broom, asking if she was alright and what happened. It was then that she noted Draco was nowhere in sight.

“S-Susan?” Hermione guessed, to which the girl happily nodded. “Where’s Draco?” her head started whipping around left and right, causing a sharp sting.

“Professor Sprout, she was shopping at Dogweed & Deathcap…she has him.” Susan replied, pointing oddly enough, to Madam Puddifoot’s. “She took him there.” 

She noticed that Crabbe and Goyle were being escorted away by a town official who would in turn; report them to Professor Snape and the Headmaster. This wasn’t like the little one hit wonder from Neville yesterday where the students had wrangled their own and were keeping it hush hush unless inquired about it. This had been a full blown ambush and assault, Draco getting the worst of it. And there’d been resident witnesses, shoppers and the like. One could only hope that they’d seen the beginning and not just the end.  
Susan, bless her Hufflepuff heart, offered her arm to Hermione, who gladly took it. Not only was she experiencing a drain in her magic, but the pain of having her neck jerked back so brutally was starting to set in and she felt a rumble in her stomach that couldn’t be disguised. The chipper girl led the way, rattling off what she’d seen of it in an excited rush that she couldn’t force herself to feel, probably the wake of adrenaline was to blame. She was the furthest thing from being so wound that she could scream, rather, she just wanted to rest and put her quivering hands to rest. 

Only at the door did Hermione realize she was a little battleworn, scuffed and dirty, but the Madam of the tea shop didn’t admonish her for it one bit when they crossed the threshold and took over, waving Susan off with a voucher for a free luncheon for her good Samaritanism. Ever so polite and grateful, the girl thanked her and bounded out the door as Madam Puddifoot escorted Hermione past the main dining room and into the parlor she had heard was rumored for reservation only, and was never available.

She heard a woman’s soft comforting and a hiss as Draco reacted to something being done to his wounds as they approached the door.

“Anything you need, don’t hesitate.” She said before applying a gentle knock. 

“Come in!” a chorus of two female voices replied in unison, triggering Hermione’s curiosity. Susan didn’t say anything about someone else helping their Herbology teacher, perhaps she just didn’t know. Trusting her instincts, her wand holstered, Hermione clutched her newly acquired broom and opened the door.

Inside the unexpectedly spacious room, she recognized the plump and cheerful professor apply something to Draco’s busted cheek as a tall and slender woman with luscious blonde hair and fine robes ran her fingers through his hair while holding his chin in an all too intimate way.

“Hermione!” he cried, happy for the distraction but was held firm by the two women. “Are you alright?”

She barely nodded, her throat thick with emotion that he should inquire about her when he was worse for wear.

“Stop.” He hissed at the blonde vehemently, “Please, can you not act like I’m made of glass?”

“Young man, you do well to mind your tongue.” She reprimanded in an all too matriarchal way. She’d seen and heard it all too often from Molly Weasley. The identity of this woman suddenly dawned on her as she stepped back from him and turned to address her.

“At last we meet Miss Granger.” She stood eloquently and enunciated clearly. “I’m Draco’s mother, Narcissa Black Malfoy.”  
………………………………….


	60. Narcissa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last, Hermione and Lady Malfoy meet. It’s nothing like either had anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *TRIGGER WARNING* possible blood/gore/surgical procedure and the images it may conjure.

Hermione felt a painful spasm in her heck and refrained from bringing her hand to it, but only marginally. She was still faced with the daunting realization that she in the presence of Draco’s mother, covered in mud and still reeling from her confrontation. This was NOT how this was supposed to happen.

A nervous laugh escaped her throat. “It would be just my luck…that you’d see me…like this…” she said through winces as the sensation in the base of her skull started becoming a prickly and cold numbness. Something was wrong.

“Come come, we’ll get you all set.” Pomona said, pulling a chair up beside Draco and indicating she should sit and be treated.

“I’m quite aware my spontaneous arrival is ill-timed, with what had just transpired.” Narcissa stated, “Your appearance is far less of a concern than that of your state of health.” Her voice was apologetic, refined and nurturing. Some of that warmth and understanding had been passed onto Draco, where else could he had gotten it from? She took a step towards Hermione; arm extended in a gesture of peace and comfort, so that she would come to her and take the chair.

Hermione backed up. “No…I’m…filthy…” She tried to not brush against the door and smear the wet earth across the pastel paint.

Covered in mud…. Filthy. Like a Mudblood….

Draco tried shaking their professor off of him, somehow sensing the rising panic in her. “Mum…let her have a moment.” He pleaded to her.

“Sit still unless you want that gut punch to come back full force.” The portly woman warned, reminding him that spells and potions required even just a little time to work their magic. She turned to her other student and rather than beckoning to her as Narcissa tried, she strolled up and left no room for her to run. The broom ended up in a corner somehow and she waved her wand over her and cast the diagnostic spell to assess for injuries. Hermione was rigid, knowing the procedure, but also with the niggling voice that told her moving would be a bad thing.

When Pomona’s breath hitched ever so slightly, her suspicions were confirmed.

Ever so gently, the Herbology professor touched Hermione’s hand. “Love, I need you to not move your neck in the slightest, just take an easy step with me.” she led the girl as if they were walking along shattering ice of a frozen lake. “Absolutely do not tilt your head, there’s a girl…Sit…good.” she cooed encouragement as the student moved in slow-motion, following direction.

Then all of Pomona’s motherly gentleness faded into fierce dictation, turning to the other woman. “Narcissa, Floo to Dumbledore’s office, then get to Pomfrey immediately. Miss Granger has sustained a bone fracture in her vertebrae.”

Both Malfoy’s jolted at the information, Hermione; still as ever, could have nodded to herself in self validation, except that would be at great risk to her condition. So she took a calming breath and let out a little sound of acknowledgement.

Draco’s hand slid across hers, fingers intertwining with hers in a gesture of comfort. She couldn’t even turn to look at him, but she felt his grey gaze upon her nonetheless. “How hard did he pull your hair?”

“I felt something…I could hear…like a little crack…” she answered, another wave of pain washing in now that the adrenaline had fled. 

“Goodness.” Narcissa whispered. Then she exited the room and the roar of the Floo activating followed. 

“Is she gonna be alright?” Draco implored his Herbology professor.

Pomona nervously licked her lip and exhaled. “Madam Pomfrey will ascertain that.”  
…………………………

Stepping out the emerald flames and marching on determined feet, Narcissa happened upon Dumbledore and McGonagall sharing tea and conversing and without preamble, declared her emergency for the school healer and why. Immediately Minerva was on her feet, with Narcissa right behind as they darted down the corridors in a silent rush, passing by student and fellow professor alike and sparing no second glances.

In the infirmary, Snape was delivering a crate of simple Pepper-Up, Ten-Second Pimple Vanisher, and Maximum Turbo Farts Potions from his first through third years’ classes and nearly dropped the entire thing upon the bustling entrance of the two women barging in hollering for Madam Pomfrey.

“What has happened now?” he asked, trying to mask his surprise at Narcissa’s unexpected presence.

Breathless, she was only able to manage key words. “Draco…Miss Granger…injured…broken bone…” she pointed to her own neck to emphasize where. “Ambushed!” she panted, shaking her hands as the healer was grabbing a neck brace, bandages, Essence of Murtlap, Dittany, Skele-gro, and Blood replenishers, listening to a far more composed retelling by McGonagall. 

“Lead the way.” Snape said, taking Narcissa’s hand to side-along apparate into Hogsmeade with Pomfrey right along. McGonagall remained at the castle, as Deputy Headmistress it was her duty to stand in should the headmaster be absent, who currently, was Flooing into his brother’s establishment to deal with the perpetrators of today’s altercation.

Back in the little room of Madam Puddifoot’s, Snape had knelt at Hermione’s feet and supported her head upright, seeing that she was soon losing the ability to do it on her own. The trade-off had been agonizingly slow and gentle, as Pomona relinquished her hold to him and stepped aside for the Healer to set to work. Narcissa stood with her hands full of supplies and Draco remained in his seat, never letting go of her hand.

“Alright,” Poppy said to herself, it had been a while since she’d had an actual surgery. “Keep her contained; we cannot use an Immobilize because I need natural reflexes to make sure I don’t accidentally paralyze her. No sudden jerks. Do not even cough so help me Merlin.” She waved her wand over the back of Hermione’s head, the diagnostic image popping up, looking very much like an X-ray negative and then laid the tip of her wand to the back of her neck and trailed down, opening up the flesh with the smoothness of a scalpel.

The screen showed Poppy the fractured vertebrae, but what was more alarming was a missing chunk at the bottom of the crack. Which meant a subsequent blow followed that knocked it loose. With sterilized hands, she dipped a pointer finger into the fine thin lines of vein and nerves and tissue, feeling Hermione tense and sharply hiss in a breath. Her hand clenched tightly onto Draco’s. Good. She trailed her finger along the knobby ridges of spinal bone to the broken section, then called out for Skele-gro. 

Pomona uncapped the bottle and Poppy dipped her wand into the potion, then brought it to meet where her finger touched, applying the liquid as well as incanting a healing spell. Hermione’s eyes were softly closed, breath steady but slow so as not to shift her position in the chair. It was beyond odd, feeling someone’s finger literally touch your spine. 

“Now that part’s done….” The healer murmured to herself. No one else was encouraged to speak as the Medi-Witch was in her zone. “Need to find the little piece…ah…come on….little bugger….” She was doing a combination of rooting around with her finger and trailing the wand along the outside of the wound, in hopes that she’d trap the chunk between the two.

“Ahhh.” Hermione cried out, hinting that the Healer had touched a nerve-literally. Snape kept her steady, making her focus on him as her pupils narrowed to tiny black dots. Draco’s thumb ran along the top of her hand, an anchor for her to hold onto.

“Almost there…” the Medi-Witch promised. She’d seen it on the diagnostic screen. Narcissa stood over the woman’s shoulder, eyes darting between the screen, the girl, and the way her son’s eyes never left her face. Even the usual stoic and reserved Snape was literally on his knees, helping assist in this endeavor. 

With a triumphant cry, the little chunk had been retrieved and extracted, as the Skele-gro would soon fill in its place. But it was too dangerous to leave it shifting around where it could nick an artery or tendon. Pomona held out an empty tea cup, the ting of bone hitting china echoing in all their ears for years to come. With a little suturing and application of some basic surface healing potions, the bandage and the neck brace, Hermione was able to hold her head up on her own, although all she wanted to do now was rest.

“Now then.” Snape broke the hushed and heavy silence with his level and droll voice, “If someone would care to explain just what in the name of Circe happened here?”  
……………………………..

“Thank you for your quick response Willows, timing was certainly of the essence in today’s matters.” Albus directed to the Hogsmeade official as they stood in the railway station, which also served as headquarters for the small member police taskforce that mostly dealt with drunks or thefts and hardly had to break out wands.

The three boys were seated tightly on a bench in a holding cell, each in a disheveled, filthy display, bruises marring their faces. Crabbe held a cold pack to the back of his head and Flint had a small towel across his lap and a permanent red hue to his face.

“These three most definitely have lost their Hogsmeade passes for the remaining days left of school.” He assured the man. “And I’m sure Professor Snape will have something equally in store for them when he arrives. Which should be any minute now.”  
………………………………

Severus Snape had to count to ten, silently, calling upon all his grueling training to remain expressionless as his blood raged. It was not often he was at odds with his emotions. He naturally held concern for his godson, as any man bequeathed the responsibility would, and hearing the boy lay out the details of his former friends ambushing him, beating him, and attempting to hurt his witch had caused a kind of knee-jerk response he didn’t know he possessed. He knew what it was like to be bullied, beaten on, belittled….but as for his new ward, sitting with a glaze in her eye, bandaged up, and feeling so small-for goodness, she projected her emotions far too loudly!-he struggled with the urge to say something, do something. Anything. This shouldn’t have happened. Again. It had crossed from the line of just words and childish behavior in the halls and to a potential life threatening situation. 

By the balls of Merlin, those boys were going to pay.

He gave the group a firm nod of his head before swishing back his robes and exiting, making his way to the Hogsmeade Station where the sorry sacks of Slytherin shit were being held.  
……………………………

“We’ll need to get you back to the infirmary; unfortunately we cannot apparate or Floo the two of you without risking further injury.” Madam Pomfrey announced. From her Medi-bag she produced a shrunk down gurney.

“Is that really necessary?” Draco whined, aghast at the sight of it.

“Would you like me to Stupefy you and toss you over my shoulder instead?” the woman bristled with authority, neverminding the boy’s own mother standing not but three feet away.

Draco held his hands up in surrender.

“Good lad. I only brought the one, but seeing as you two are quite the cozy couple, I’m sure you won’t object to sharing.” She added with a touch of snark.

“So much for tea…” Hermione sighed, breaking her silence.

“I’m sorry love.” He replied, patting her hand. “Ironically, I wanted to bring you here after getting your broom. Well, I guess I only succeeded halfway in that.” He smiled weakly.  
They were both roused from their chairs gently, Draco sliding onto the gurney first and holding his arms out to help Hermione as was surrounded on all sides by the women, each assisting a part of her and moving slow and steady. The cot had been only marginally engorio’d as it still needed to fit through the door, but both teens were fairly lean and did not require much extra room. Hermione lay on her back while Draco rested on his side-the only part of him that didn’t currently ache-while Madam Pomfrey led the caravan, the gurney floating behind her and Pomona taking the rear.

Narcissa waited a beat and lingered, noticing the brand new broom left behind in the corner and picked it up. It was a beautiful Zephyrus, customized for the witch she had longed to meet. She took it in hand and stopped over to the namesake of the establishment. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Think nothing of it Lady Malfoy!” she replied. “I’m only too glad to have been of some help. A ghastly scene that was, such a shock, seeing your boy like that!”

It had been. With half a face turned purple, a swollen bloody lip, and legs that had turned to jelly, clutching his abdomen, she could’ve fainted had the Herbology professor not been there keeping him upright. A possible list of names ran through her mind, wondering, who would hurt her boy this way…when it had been former friends and fellow Slytherins to boot. Narcissa felt a white hot fire rage under her calm façade but she knew Snape would make the remaining school year hell for those who had done this.

“Those two little lambs, oh you should’ve seen them yesterday!” the stout woman with her shiny black hair topped in a somewhat messy bun went on. “It was only a moment I saw them, she in a gossamer pink dress, hair all done up to the nines. And he with his dress coat, handkerchief in breast pocket, I thought for sure they’d be coming in despite the line! But no, they went on to the grocer and giggling like lovebirds dashed off.”

“Is that so?” the mother gently intoned, encouraging Puddifoot even more.

“Oh yes. ‘Bout as lovely as Miss Parkinson was with Young Longbottom, a fine couple they make! But go on now, I bet your son is waiting for ya!”

Narcissa chuckled. “He’s barely looked in my direction ever since that girl came into the room, he’s not missing me. But if you don’t mind, I’d love to be able to treat them to that tea date they missed.”  
………………………..

The impassive, stern face of their Head of House, Slytherin figure of authority glaring down at them with a withering gaze that would make Medusa proud, the three teens meekly shuffled out of the cell and in line as he pointed towards the door and without a word, they were already exiting the station. He remained behind the trio, not even needing a wand at their backs for they were thoroughly cowed, having to take a literal walk of shame through the very street where their public beat down had taken place.  
Shoppers and shopkeeps alike stood in doorways, windows, stopped in their tracks on the in between and shot them with glares and jeers. Flint, with his prominent wet spot still evident on his slacks, was the laughing stock as he was at the head of the group. A rogue tomato flew and splattered against his shirt, a bloody spray of fruit to show someone’s displeasure. Laughs followed. As did a few more choice food items.

From their window up in the Hog’s Head Inn, Sirius and Remus could see the walk of shame and food throwing fiasco, tsking, shaking their heads and crossing their arms. At least they couldn’t claim he was showing favoritism, they were his own students. A soft knock at their door had Sirius ready to shift and Remus straightening his back as he strode over to the door, surprised by the appearance of the headmaster.

“You ought to hear it first from me, before Harry does anything rash.” He the man said, instantly catching their attention.  
………………………..

They couldn’t help but take the main road, the path was straightforward and the shortest route to the castle, only if they could’ve avoided being seen by the passerby’s, that would’ve been preferred. When Narcissa emerged from the tea shop, purse laden with some treats for the two teens, the women escorting their floating gurney turned to her with a silent look that begged to know if there was anything else that was needed before they return.

Draco finally managed to peel his eyes off Hermione and recognize his mother; she silently chuckled at her inner monologue of things that would’ve been an appropriate tease had the situation been different.

“Mum, could you do something for me?” he asked, grey eyes begging in the way they knew how when he wanted something he couldn’t get for himself.

“Anything dear.” She said, coming up and sweeping some hair away from his face.

“Ok please stop doing that.” He gruffly pouted, batting at her hand with the force of a kitten. “I have a custom order waiting at Scrivenshaft's, already paid for.”

“We need to be leaving.” Madam Pomfrey interjected.

“Right, of course!” Narcissa exclaimed. “I’ll go fetch it and be up with you soon.” She promised, barely finishing the sentence before the Medi-Witch was leading them away. The sight of anyone being escorted by Medical professionals naturally brought out concerned onlookers. One the most concerned being a redheaded Hufflepuff.  
……………………………

Cho and Cedric had just stepped out of Ceridwen's Cauldrons shop onto the scene, and were utterly bewildered at the form of punishment Snape was delving out on his own students.

“Glad I’ve never made that man mad at me.” Cedric joked, adjusting the new cauldron under his arm. Cho caught sight of Susan Bones, angrily pelting Marcus Flint with a tomato and Snape merely letting it happen. Immediately she was up to the girl’s side and demanding to know what happened.

“Oh you don’t know?” Susan gasped. “Those three attacked Hermione and Draco Malfoy! And they were so hurt Madam Pomfrey and Professor Sprout had to take them away on a gurney!”

The next thing Cedric knew his girlfriend was a blur of black hair and blue robes, darting past him and up the path that led to the school. He heaved a sigh and followed, knowing his Ravenclaw girlfriend would be going to see her for herself and offering her services to the Medi-Witch should they be needed.

Granted she was a Seeker, and had she been on a broom she would’ve interceded them far quicker, but being athletic and fit from her lifelong study of martial arts, Cho ran with the wind, the brand new friendship bracelet on her wrist jingling with each swing of her arm as she shuffled forward up the hill. Not even the slick spots of mud could deter her as she headed to the castle, arriving to the Infirmary shortly after Draco and Hermione had been laid in their own beds.

Panting and wide eyed, she saw enough in the few seconds she’d managed before being shooed away and lingered by the door, catching her breath and eavesdropping. 

“You’re going to need to keep your neck in the brace until I’m confident the bone has healed completely and not a day before.”

Neck brace?

“It’s rude to lurk at doorways.” A haughty and authoritative voice resonated behind her, causing to her to squeal and spin quickly to see a noble looking blonde holding a bag from Scrivenshaft's. The woman looked amused though, so she hoped she wouldn’t rat her out. When she made a little shooing motion Cho knew she was scott-free.

“You’re friends with her?” Narcissa asked of the Asian girl. She nodded.

“Then perhaps you can locate a few members of Slytherin that are also friends of hers? Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson….” She suggested. “Just let them know that she’s here and being treated and Draco as well.”

Cho nodded, having a pretty good idea where to find a bunch of snakes on a Sunday. She gave a mini curtsey and rounded the corner so fast she completely bypassed Cedric, armful of cauldron and other supplies that he’d been procuring for Professor Sprout, who gave a sigh and resigned himself to eating her dust for the rest of the afternoon.  
…………………………

Narcissa knew better than stand in the way of Healers and school officials, even if one patient was her son. With a chair pulled up she merely made herself comfortable as Pomona and Poppy pulled the curtain around each student and proceeded to assess further injury. Draco protested at having to shuck off his trousers, but there was simply no way the fabric would give he if tried rolling them up his shins, so they had to go.

His knees were nearly blackened with dark bruises and he groaned at the sight. How embarrassing to have something like this and it not even be from Quidditch match but just being jumped by lumbering meatheads. They’d reduced him to a legless mess with that initial shot from behind and the cowardly blow to the back of his head. If he had to guess, he’d been kicked at first to be brought down. Had they seriously tried to break him? Cause him some debilitating injury so that he couldn’t play Quidditch? He couldn’t fathom them being that nutty; they were in the same House after all! There wasn’t another Slytherin he knew of that was trying out for Seeker.

The bruises were large patches of discolored skin, across his back, behind his knees, his left cheek, and of course his kneecaps. He had contusion the size of an egg on the back of his skull and had taken a pretty hard hit to the abdomen, which had knocked him of breath for several seconds. Seconds that could’ve made the life or death difference of Hermione’s injury.

Hermione on the other hand, only sustained the major wound as well as strain to her lower back and both teens were on ordered bedrest and light duty for the following week, by order of Madam Pomfrey. They’d been subsequently stripped of their muddy clothing and given hospital grade plain gowns. Their clothing and footwear had been sent off with a Slytherin house elf who promised to bring back fresh uniforms for them for morning.

Narcissa was not by any means fooled into thinking that Hermione’s resorting was taken with welcoming arms, and she had expected backlash of some sort, the petty bullying of the likes that Draco use to employ, but not this. 

She went around to the bed containing the enigmatic witch and met her warm brown eyes. Sitting upright against a pile of pillows, Hermione was in the process of occluding, it was obvious to those who knew what to look for. With a dip in the corner of the bed, her focus teetered and eventually came to a close, with her focusing on the woman for the first time. “You shouldn’t see me like this. I’m sure I’ve made a terrible first impression. Oh if only you’d come yesterday…”

Narcissa smiled and stretched a hand out to the girl. “So I heard, a vision in pink with your hair up? No doubt you looked lovely, but would that have really made an impression on me nearly as much as seeing you fresh from a fight-defending my son no less-and following through with that surgical procedure?” she patted her smaller hand. “Miss Granger, consider me highly impressed.”

For the first time since meeting her, Hermione broke into a genuine grin.  
…………………………….

It had become a full on party. Somehow. First, it was just the Slytherins and the occasional Gryffindor friend, but then a couple Ravenclaws showed up and a little redhead Gryffindor with a blonde Ravenclaw on her arm arrived and it had become a free for all.

Tracey took point on the music, handling the records with care and educating the pureblood swine into the world of classic rock and watching as bodies started swaying along until Pansy pulled Neville upright and started dancing, making it up with every move she made. Then Padma and Anthony showed up, and were twirled out on the floor by her and Blaise, leaving Harry to manage the record player, until Theo managed to get him swinging along and he abandoned his post.

Millicent had seen enough to give it a shot, taking care not to scratch the shiny black circular device and happily sat with Crookshanks, petting the content purring machine.  
Then, a tense looking Ginny knocked on the door and threw herself into the mix, as if she had stress to dance away and Luna hung against the wall for a bit until Padma and Blaise pulled her into their dance routine.

The lab table was well protected, especially with the growing crush of bodies and occasional spilled drink but everyone agreed they’d clean up and never mention a word to Hermione. Or Draco. 

Such was the scene when the heavy panting and thundering on the door brought it all to a halt. Millicent pulled the needle off the record as Neville opened the door and a breathless, pale and sweaty Cho Chang all but fell into him and fanned herself for a moment until she could speak.

In the seconds she took though, everyone had started formulating worst case scenarios.

“It’s Hermione and Draco, right?” Harry said, saying what everyone was thinking.

She nodded. “They’re in the infirmary.”  
………………………………

With just a little pleading and wheel greasing, Narcissa had somehow convinced a begrudgingly Madam Pomfrey to move the two bed closer together so that they could all have tea and a proper chat. The Medi-Witch took it as an opportunity to have a little conference with the headmaster and let them have their little moment, sternly insisting that upon her return her patients were to rest.

Grinning primly, Narcissa pulled out a box from her purse and presented them with a delectable array of hand chosen sweets from Madam Puddifoot herself and a tea set, wasting no time in conjuring up a flame and heating the pot and adding in their preferred sweetening methods. It had been some time since Draco had seen his mother take the task over completely, something she only did with the most intimate of company.

Meeting her son’s girlfriend, battered and bruised in the infirmary was bound to be one of the most vivid memories Narcissa would carry with her until her last breath. Especially when the girl displayed an assortment of striking qualities such as manners befitting of fine upbringing, yet with a boyish inflection with her dress and behaviors, and possessing a brilliant mind that she immediately tested with talk of the Floriography book just to see if she’d actually thumbed through it. Her new style of hair had been one of the most unexpected aspects, for she wanted to see the “riotous mass” for herself, but finding out she had incredibly long hair once it was straight had her imaging all kinds of ways to style it. They spoke of their Potion/Herbology project that with help from Neville Longbottom, had helped them discover they had a strong botanical bond to their individual plants.

She was thrilled beyond measure. This girl was everything Draco had described and more: intelligent, beautiful, strong-willed, courageous, kind, and contained a fire that burned brightly. She would be the perfect daughter-in-law….

If only….

But she’d compartmentalize those thoughts for later.

There was no mention of his father. Of the Death Eaters coming and going from the manor. Or what schemes they were getting involved in with their countermeasures.  
Just the good things. The things that any young witch should discuss with her boyfriend’s mother. Passions and dreams. How endearing her son was. What they did together with their friends. Had the tea not taken place in the hospital wing it would’ve been absolutely perfect.  
……………………………

“Both of them?” Pansy urged Cho to be a little more specific.

“I heard it from Susan Bones, they were ambushed! And Snape was letting everyone throw fruit at them as he was bringing them back up, an-”

“Whoa.” Theo said, hand out for a pause. “Are you saying Snape let it happen? That’s ridiculous!”

Cho shook her head, realizing she’d skipped avital part. “The guys! The guys who did it! In the street!”

“Cho! Make sense!” Padma cried. “You’re freaking everyone out!”

“Let’s go.” Harry said dismissively, arching a confused eyebrow at Cho as he waved everyone out of the room.

Neville followed after everyone, sweeping up the room clear of debris and warded it back up, locking the door and joining the group as they all started jogging their way to the hospital wing, questions still peppering her the whole time. Growing so flustered, Cho just shook her head and gave up, leaving the others even more frustrated and agitated by the time they arrived, pummeling down the door.  
……………………….

It was a variable army outside the door.

And they were here for Granger.

Some for Draco, but mainly, their concern lay with Hermione.

He sat with arms crossed, the barest hint of indignation in his brow as he tried to not let it bother him. Of course they’d be concerned for her, she’d been the one receiving the threats…but this time he had been just as much as a victim, the proof was all over his face. It was wrong; to be jealous of the attention she was receiving, for it was given without a care. One mention of her being hurt and they all were caught up. 

Once the floodgate caved in, it was a torrential tide washing over every side of her bed, friends from three different houses all in a cacophony of inquiry and declarations of revenge. They’d finally gotten a clearer retelling of what happened from her and couldn’t believe the gall of Flint, Crabbe, and Goyle. All of them swore if they had been nearby they would’ve done something, truly they would’ve, but then again if they had been close the attack wouldn’t have occurred.

Everyone offered to carry her books, take any burden off her hands so she wouldn’t have to exert her body, hell they would’ve offered to carry her if she’d so much as asked, instead, she brought their attention to Draco and his condition, which warranted the same restrictions. As if a cork had been popped, they all realized he had more physical evidence to the day’s event and approached him, asking where he’d been hit, with what, did he get any of his own in, and the like.

He shook his head bitterly when all he could say was that he’d grabbed onto Goyle’s leg and kept him locked in place for Hermione to do her flying kick thing. After that Professor Sprout took him away, so he never even saw what she did to Flint. Suddenly he didn’t want the attention anymore, reminding him of how much he’d been a failure at protecting her. She’d done all the work. 

She defended him.

It was with the arrival of a grim looking Professor Snape that sent the large crowd away, noting that it had grown in size since the last he took note of the immediate social circle. Now she had Ravenclaws clamoring to her side. Lovely. He assured the adoring fans that any work assigned to them could be picked up by Theodore and Pansy. When Harry visibly deflated and looked wounded Snape rolled his eyes and explained it was simply an in-house matter and nothing against him personally, which shocked the boy into silence as he was pulled away.

“I’ve overstayed.” Narcissa stated, turning to both bedridden teens. “It was truly a joy to meet you Hermione. I hope to do it again soon.”

Hermione gave a stiff, miniscule nod, thoroughly exhausted from the chaotic affection from all her friends. Their energy was infectious, and it felt great being awash in the hubbub of it all, but once they departed she couldn’t fake the toil any longer.

Narcissa stepped up to Draco and planted a kiss to the top of his head, causing him to flush bright red and fidget like he’d been infected with something before biding her farewell with genuine affection. She stepped away with Snape as their healer came up to set their beds right.

“No, please…” Draco begged, sticking an arm out, barely grasping at the rail of her bed, imploring the woman to let them remain close.

“Mister Malfoy, nothing will happen to her with you six feet apart.”

“I don’t care.” His voice cracked. “You very well know how this day could’ve ended….please…I just need to be able to touch her.”

Poppy Pomfrey sighed. She’d seen a lot of things in her tenure at this school. There’d been the occasional death, disfigurement, lost limb, transfiguration horror, spells cast that somehow landed astray and curses that did all kinds of nasty things, but this was new.

“Young man, you certainly are one charming little snake.” She gave him the barest hint of a smile. “I better not hear one complaint out of you.” He immediately started nodding as she held up her index finger. “Not about the food, the medicine, anything. And don’t try getting frisky either, mind you my office is around the corner and I keep this room charmed to alert me of certain…activities.”

He reared back with a shocked and slightly disgusted face that the school healer of all people would even suggest a thing like that happening-the lack of privacy for starters!-and adamantly agreed he’d abide by the gentleman’s code. She pointed her wand and moved the tiny nightstand from between their beds and had his pulled flush against Hermione’s, where he immediately stuck his arm out and took hold of her hand, rubbing his thumb across the top like he did during the surgery.

Hermione slowly turned herself just so she could finally see him after all this time, her eyes glassy and face flushed, cheeks a little squished from the brace pressing against her jawline. “She’s right you know…” she breathed heavily. “Charming.”  
…………………………….

“Narcissa, you’re risking too much by coming here. You can’t keep coming up with excuses. Lucius is paranoid by nature and if even an iota of that is trained on you then all hope of gathering any further information will be for naught.” Snape hissed in a hushed whisper as they walked.

“There’s only so many lies I can come up with by letter before I am faced with Obliviating him in person and even then that presents a problem.” 

“Severus, how could you keep this so secret? That girl nearly died today!”

He spun to face her. “She’s nearly died every single year since she stepped her little shiny shoes into this place! Do you not recall the basilisk? She was one of the petrified, clever thing figuring out what it was but still falling victim to it. And last year…” he shook his head at the memory of Lupin losing himself to the full moon with him shielding three silly Gryffindor brats from the craze of a werewolf.

“And now because of the Resorting…” she filled in for him.

“Yes. And what a bloody spectacle that was. There already had been a break within the lion pride, and when Weasley proved to be every bit of gauche Gryffindor pride, she took the damn hat into her own hands and made history. And now protecting that trouble-prone child has been my newest chore in life!”

“So this…is a regular occurrence?” she queried, aghast at the very thought.

Snape sighed. “The adoring fan club has added new members thankfully, but she has six from Slytherin alone that are to be her bodyguards when down in the dorms. I fear the Greengrass girl may become a problem merely out of petty jealousy.” 

They arrived at Dumbledore’s office, gaining entry and heading to the Floo.

“Here,” he said, pulling a vial out of robe pocket and pressing it into her palm. “Soak some parchment in this and it will disguise any letter you write into a generic greeting and how-do-you-do in case Lucius tries intercepting your mail. Do not come back to the school unless Albus or I contact you to do so. The memories you gave us will more than suffice when he is brought to judgement. We will see to it that you and Draco are safe from his wrath and reach. For now, we must let them carry on with their plan so we can catch them red-handed. Keep your mind well occluded and your words in check.”

She palmed the vial, letting her hand linger in his for just a few precious seconds. Touches between them had always been few and fleeting and at great risk. Although Lucius tolerated him as a “fellow” Death Eater and dark wizard, he’d always cast a suspicious glance anytime he was in Narcissa’s proximity. She remained faithful to her husband, although the same couldn’t be said for him.

When Snape brought evidence to her all those years ago, begging her to leave him, to take Draco and put herself in his hands she only refused because there’d be no way on Godric’s green earth that Lucius would let her leave him-alive-and take HIS SON. He alluded to it one drunken evening when his paranoia during the wizarding war had her pulling away from him that he’d kill her before he ever her be taken away from him. If he’d been trying to sound romantic while attempting to get into her knickers that particular night, he’d failed horribly, and she shut herself in her own chambers with their young son and refused to leave until he sobered and apologized, swearing to never say such things again.

Not that she’d ever forget.

That was when she started collecting memories, filling phial after phial and storing them away, transfiguring them into jewelry so he wouldn’t grow suspicious at a cache of bottles in her wardrobe. She’d say whatever was needed, do whatever was necessary as well, and had to choke down the bile in her throat and the burn in her heart when he gave her what she needed, to save and store for a rainy day, praying her son would be a better man than his father. Knowing that Severus was Albus’s double agent made him the perfect choice as Draco’s godfather, to keep an eye on at school and hope that his influence would get him to trust the opinions of others and not just whatever his father decreed was the truth.

And bless the Granger girl for possessing the heart she did, for finding the light that she knew was in there and pulling it to the surface. 

With a quick press of her lips to his cheek, she grabbed a handful of Floo powder and called out the location of a shop in Diagon Ally where she could fake a shopping excursion that carried on a little later than she anticipated when Lucius would inquire as to her whereabouts, unless he was elbow deep in maps and notes with more Death Eaters in his office.

When he returned to the Infirmary, he stumbled upon an intimate scene of the two young lovers, beds pressed together with his godson idly stroking the cheek of the sleeping brunette and watching her as if she were the most enchanting thing in the world. 

On silent feet, robes slightly swishing as they dragged behind him, he made the tiniest of throat clears, and Draco barely reacted. “Let her sleep.” He said in a low voice so as not to wake her. “You can get her memories of it later.”

A little whistle of air escaped his nostrils at his godson’s command with slight indignation that the boy knew him well enough to ascertain his reason for being there. Damn it all, he was right though. They’d endured enough today. Long it had been since he encountered anything that even remotely reminded him of the war-the aftermath of the dodgeball game aside-and having to hold Granger upright and still as a Healer literally dug around in her neck to retrieve a broken bone conjured up all kinds of long occluded memories and feelings.

Blood and filth. Bodies broken and mutilated. Fires burning and nights torn with screams. St. Mungo’s overrun with casualties like this. People dying beside each other, stranger or friend.

It was all going to happen again if they failed to prevent it.  
…………………….


	61. Infirmary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Healing wounds and egos takes time, having a strong army of friends helps it go by faster. Draco and Hermione have a whole day to learn more about each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a pretty mellow chapter. No fights, at least not physically.  
> An argument of sorts, but mostly talking.  
> Draco asking a lot of questions and expressing some doubts.  
> Hermione finally letting Draco know that what she feels is genuine.
> 
> If anything, these two fall for each other a little more.

The atmosphere of the day had changed. Gone was the jubilance of yesterday, replaced with the grim reality of today. While the information had been condensed and quick, for the sake of telling them enough to quell their initial concerns before Snape ushered them all out, the finer details had yet to be thoroughly explored. Hermione wasn’t even sure of them herself, she’d been running on pure adrenaline that it almost felt like someone else was at the helm, just steering her along.

When Snape returned for her memory testimony, she worried just what he’d see. It couldn’t go unnoticed how uncomfortable Draco was looking though he said nothing. He shuffled his position gingerly and tried to not let his interest in the Legilimency probe show. His godfather behaved as if he wasn’t even there; focusing his attention on Hermione and stepping through the doorway she opened for him.  
…………………………

The blitz attack took him by surprise, almost knocking his concentration loose as he experienced the peripheral shift of her perspective when her hair was sharply yanked. He clearly heard the bone snap. He witnessed the beating Draco received at his former friend’s hands and Flint shoving her own wand at her throat before flying backwards, slamming into a building that was at least 20 feet away.

A strong and immensely focused Depulso.

Had he not seen it for himself, he never would’ve believed the smaller girl capable of taking down the giant oafs that were Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. Whatever that move she did by swinging her legs up around his face and then purposely tossing herself to the ground had him falling like timber. Draco had contributed in the small way he could by holding fast to Goyle’s leg, barely able to stand once Hermione had him on his feet.

As Pomona came bounding up from the Herbology shop, Flint had stupidly chosen to egg on Hermione, no doubt fueled by the liquid courage he’d illegally purchased with use of an Aging Potion-the boy was racking up quite the tally of misdeeds-and that’s when a red haze framed his vision. 

Or her vision, he corrected himself.

The look on Flint’s face said it all, what he’d seen had been real and not some alcoholic infused misconception. Just what Hermione was tapping into though, remained unknown as he watched the boy go flying back into the wall, and then punched as if she’d done it physically when all she had done was manipulate the air around her to do so.

She never once turned away to accio her wand, casting non-verbally and wandlessly, jerking Flint into the air, storeys above the crowd and street. She dangled him, taunted him, and played with him as a cat with a mouse. And when he finally made contact with the ground he’d pissed himself thoroughly. All the while she exuded an eerie calm, just like the “hurricane” scenario. Her rage was frightening.  
…………………………

“Your memory concurs with several witness testimony.” He said in conclusion to the spectacle he’s just relayed. The girl in question just weakly lifts the side of her mouth-whether it’s a smirk or twitch of acknowledgement he isn’t sure of-and breathes heavily through her nose. She’s still acclimating to the neck brace and in no mood for her professor’s barbs.

“If that’ll be all then?” she inquiries, a subtle way of telling the man that it is indeed all it will be.

“For now.” He replied. “You two are excused from class tomorrow but should be well enough to be up and about Tuesday, on the orders of light duty and no exertion. Nott and Parkinson will be attending to your assistance should you need it.”

“What will you be telling my father of this?” Draco asked, not sure how Snape could spin this in a positive light.

“You’ll know when I send it off.” He dourly replied. “It won’t be deviating from the truth much. Too many witnesses.”

That answer didn’t seem to ease the teen, who only clutched his hands tighter around his upper arms and focused on a point off in the distance. Already he could imagine his father’s disapproving sneer and cold eyes as he was reminded of his failures and the humiliation he’d brought to the family name. The conclusion of which would be for him to publically break it off with Hermione in the worst possible way, break her heart and shame her far worse than ever before.

Draco didn’t even realize Snape left when she addressed him, so shut up in his dark musings to notice the late afternoon light as Madam Pomfrey pulled the curtains to prevent irritable rays of sunlight peeking through. How vastly different yesterday was to this. From such a high to this new low. Their future was so unclear.

“Sorry love,” he said numbly. “Just lost in my thoughts.”

“I know that. And you worry what Lucius will respond with.” She made a weak reach for his hand, wiggling her fingers indicating she wanted his hand in hers. Reluctantly, he followed through.

“So transparent…” he murmured bitterly.

“Draco, you just got the wizarding equivalent of the Tonya Harding beatdown of Nancy Kerrigan. You have every right to be upset.”

Naturally his head spun towards her at that comment. “Who the heck are they?”

“Last January, there was a sensational attack on a figure skater named Nancy Kerrigan. Her rival was Tonya Harding and it was her ex-husband that hired a guy to hit the back of her knee with a baton and take her out of the Championships. They were in preparations for the Olympics… kinda like the Tri-Wizard Tournament actually. Camera crews were there on the scene so they got footage of her screaming ‘why me?’ and they just played that over and over again. She’s lucky it didn’t cripple her. The injury to her kneecap and quadricep tendon is much like what you just endured.”

He flopped back onto his pillows and sighed. “What if Father tells me to call it off? To hurt you?.... I couldn’t go through with it.”

Stiffly, she turned her torso and neck as one entity. “Then we’ll make it convincing Draco.” She squeezed his hand. “You’ve come too far just to lose me now.”

His face crumbled as emotions overwhelmed him, the tears finally slipping through the barrier they’d been building up behind until the damn broke. He tossed to his side, bringing her hand to his lips and pressing quick, hard kisses over each knuckle as his other hand wiped at his eye and nose.

“I should’ve done more.”

“You did enough.”

“No. I didn’t. I was too easily overcome and didn’t even get one strike in. I didn’t protect you at all.”

“Newsflash Draco but we’re approaching the new millennium. Women don’t always need a man to stand up or them, but we’re glad when they do. You’ve been there for me on more than one occasion. It was my turn to make a stand.”

He muffled his cries into the palm of her hand, soaking her skin in his tears. All she could do was rub her thumb along his cheek, his lips, whatever part of him was in proximity and lean awkwardly against the rail of her bed to be close to him. She let him cry, as he had done once for her, even before she knew what she even wanted from him, and now couldn’t imagine anyone else. 

“I chose you too, you know.” She told him, catching a tear as he pressed the meat of her palm against his cheek. “It wasn’t just because you told me how you felt and showed me the sketches. It wasn’t just because I got resorted and needed a protector. I’d already chosen you before I became Slytherin because what I had longed hoped for finally came to be.”

He sniffled, using his sleeve in a manner that would’ve had his mother appalled. 

“You let yourself be You. The real you.”

“I’m only good with you.” He whispered, voice a bit raw from crying. “Only you could bring this out of me. This thing…How could I want it with anyone else?” He nuzzled her hand, eventually lowering enough for her fingers to comb through his hair.

“Then the honor is mine Draco.”

“But what do I do for you? You’re already protective; you stand up for injustice of all sorts. What makes me any different?”

Oh, if only that question had a straightforward answer. Honestly, what made him stand out amongst the rest? What made him the one that caused all sorts of uncertainty and second guessing about herself? He didn’t own the market on good looks, intelligence, and excellent social standing. But he was the one that challenged her the most.

“I may never have an answer for that one, because there are so many things that come to mind. Il y a juste quelque chose chez toi.*”

*There’s just something about you.* 

He wrinkled his nose. “Don’t you dare try flattering me with French.” He reprimanded with a playful scowl. “Linguistic minx.”

“Petulant dragon.” She countered right back.

“Mh….wuv….yooo….” he muffled his mouth into her palm, squeezing his eyes shut else they betray him wholeheartedly and she catch on to his cowardly confession.

Before she could ask him to repeat what his said without trying to ingest her hand, Madam Pomfrey came upon their tender moment and shot it down dead with another round of diagnostics and pain relieving potions. The nap Hermione had taken had been of pure exhaustion, missing lunch, but she had been well satisfied with the cakes and treats Narcissa provided. Dinner would be around shortly, and they would be allotted visitors, although she would have to limit it to three at a time. A dozen was far too many at once.  
……………………….

It was like trying to pick lottery numbers, choosing which two people to team up with in order to go visit Hermione and Draco in the infirmary. The queue outside the door was akin to that of an amusement park, everyone patiently waiting their turn on the ride.

Standing at the head of the line was Angelina with Fred & George, all shocked beyond comprehension when they heard the news. Surely they thought the worst, thinking Lavender and Ron had come at them in their newfound hatred of each other, but they’d kept a close eye on their troublesome little wards and nixed the idea almost immediately. 

The guys started cracking their knuckles in anger, hearing the extent of her injuries, and took morbid fascination in the little chunk of bone she had in a little vial after Madam Pomfrey told her she had no need of it.

Angelina asked if she could get a picture of them, bandaged up, lying in hospital beds, and yet still together. They politely declined.

Ginny strolled in with two Ravenclaws; Luna and Padma. While Gin and Paddy chatted up Hermione, Luna slipped over to Draco’s side and whispered “I had another vision.”  
He stiffened as if he’d felt the icy finger of death trail down his back. “Tell me later.” He told her, gesturing that she write it down and send it by note. He didn’t want Hermione to hear anything just yet, not while she needed rest.

“Later then.” The little blonde nodded firmly.

Millicent had tagged along with Tracey and Anthony, mainly thanking her again for the bracelet and promising to look after Crookshanks for the evening. Then she stepped aside so Tracey could show off her new arm candy-literally and figuratively-and thanking her for both. Anthony offered to bring some crossword puzzles and a game of Scrabble to keep them entertained tomorrow, which led Draco’s curiosity to spur Anthony into describing the game in great detail and swallowing up the remaining time they had.

Cho stepped in with boyfriend Cedric and fellow Hufflepuff Susan Bones, who Hermione grasped the hands of and thanked her personally for her assistance. Cho tearfully apologized for earlier, reiterating that she botched her explanation of what happened and causing the panicked flood to storm in.

“It’s alright Cho.” Hermione soothed. “We can’t always keep our heads straight in a crisis. I think if it had been me, I would’ve barely gotten it out right too.”

“I’ve never seen Snape so livid.” Cedric added. “I mean, the man was literally shaking in anger, speaking so low that Miss Sprout had to lean in to hear him. They’re both delegating the punishments and boy am I ever so glad I’m not one of them.”

“Why? What’re they doing?” Draco asked, truly intrigued since Snape mentioned nothing of it.

“Let’s just say that the Potions class isn’t the only place that’s in need of a deep cleaning. Miss Sprout has all sorts of plants that excrete mucus that needs collecting, not to mention the honeybee hives that needs scraping, and Hagrid’s Thestral dung.”

“Word has it that she’s been working on a new fertilizer mixture.” Susan chimed in with a happy gleam.

“You Puffs can be a little terrifying when you put your minds to it.” Draco laughed.

“I suppose that’s some sort of Slytherin style praise.” Cedric bantered back with that infectious smile and playful wink. Hermione willed herself to not blush so hard, and would deny it on her deathbed if anyone asked her if he affected her that way.

When they left Draco leaned over to her. “I saw that.”

She let out a strangled groan just as Pansy walked in with Neville.

“Oh, well if that’s the welcome we’re graced with then we’ll just leave.” Pansy teased in a snooty, mock-offended voice.

“Save me.” Hermione cried. “I’m going to go insane being in here all night.”

“Sorry love, Medi-Witch’s orders. But I’ll get you anything you need from your room.” She offered.

Draco motioned for Neville to come to his side, extending his hand out that the Gryffindor mistook for a handshake so he was stiff and surprised when Draco had pulled him into a one-arm hug after firmly gripping his hand and turning it into his chest. Hermione saw guys greet each other like that all the time in the muggle world, not so much in the wizarding. Was Draco aware of the gesture or just initiating the closest to a hug as he’d ever grace the nervous wizard?

“I would’ve given up half my vault to see you lay into Weasley.” He sighed with content. “His brothers told us that you got both his nose and his lip. Right on mate!”

Neville looked over at Hermione. “Is he medicated?”

“We both are.” She answered dryly.

“You’re not bad Longbottom, standing up for Pansy, and yer mum like that. Guess yer really are a lion deep down in there.” Draco poked at Neville’s belly.

“Eh…thanks?” Neville replied, utterly at a loss as to how to react to this friendly side of Draco being personally directed at him. Especially since it was just in small company. Yesterday was one of the few times they’d had a discussion at length-involving their witches-and Draco giving him just a few tidbits of inside information, like how the vanilla cakes with oranges was Pansy’s favorite, along with chamomile tea with a slice of lemon.

“Well, I can take care of your plants and further document your notes on the samples you’re testing. I’ll inform you if there’s been any major change with them.”

“Thank you Nev, much appreciated.” She relied, then shifted back to Pansy. “If you can, I’d love my craft box. Trust me; you’ll know what it is when you see it.”

“I’ll bring it after breakfast.” She promised.

On their exit came the final group to Madam Pomfrey’s relief.

“Saving the best for last.” Blaise cheesed a grin as he slid up on the corner of Draco’s bed as Harry and Theo came round to Hermione’s side. “You two make quite the pair, even bandaged up and looking like something Crookshanks dragged in.”

“Thanks. Love you too.” Draco huffed.

Harry had to be careful with his hug, holding her like she was made of glass and muttering over and over he’d make those idiots pay. Theo had to pat his shoulder and rein him in lest he go on another rant and said her neck brace was so fetching that she could start a new fashion trend. She wept tears of laughter and teetered, making both of them fall over each other trying to keep her upright. With a Stooge-worthy smack upside the head, Harry chided Theo for the joke, which had Theo reacting with a jab to his tickle sensitive stomach and Harry backed up.

“Those two have been like that for the past hour.” Blaise rolled his eyes. “I think it’s their way of sorting out their stress from worrying about you two.”

“Let ‘em beat the shit outta each other.” The drugged up blond delegated with a lazy wave. “Saves us from havin’ ta do it.”

“Sounds like that pain relief potion is kicking in. Well, I’mma take these idiots off your hands and let you two lovebirds get your beauty sleep, because you certainly do need it now.”

The visitors switched sides, the bumbling duo now hovering over Draco and threatening to poke his bruises while Blaise picked up Hermione’s French braid and whistled at Tracey’s handiwork.

“Girl can braid.” He hummed in approval. “I take it lover-boy over there has already proposed and wishes to be buried in your hair when he finally dies?”

A chirpy laugh bubbled out from her, just conjuring all sorts of ridiculous images to that question. “Course not. Though I gotta say this stuff is pretty amazing. I didn’t even know my hair was actually this long. And you were right Blaise, I felt really good about myself. I was walking on air.”

The Italian smiled. “Ok guys, these two are over the hedge now.” He motioned with his thumb for them to make their grand exit. He pulled on Theo’s collar and jumped onto his back, Theo immediately hooking his arms under his friend’s knees as Blaise waved one arm in the air, calling out “Carica, valoroso destriero*!” when Madam Pomfrey whirled out of her office and started wagging her finger at them for being disruptive.

Harry was wiping his eyes and wheezing the whole way after them.

* Charge, you gallant steed!*

Upon her return she found the two caught in the limbo between awake and asleep, easing Hermione onto her back and making sure she had enough elevation as Draco shuffled against the narrow mattress, inwardly grumbling about the standard cotton filled pillow rather than his fine goose down one in his dorm. Not to mention his thousand thread count sheets and billowy comforter. The only thing that made this whole ordeal bearable was that Hermione was by his side. As such, he snuck his hand over to grasp onto hers, feeling just the tiniest of squeezes, assuring him that she knew he was there.

There was nothing more he cherished than her simple touch. 

Pain relief potion and calming draughts make a mean cocktail, ensuring that those subdued under them would rest, wholly and surely, without taking away any dreams. Sleeping in the infirmary was notoriously difficult for most to adjust to, complaints ranging from the smaller beds, standard bedding, curtain barriers rather than walls, the cold wooden floors and the odd creaks and groans of that part of the castle and the lack of a crackling fireplace. It was also notably colder due to the higher count of windows. All such factors were considered null and void for the two patients in Poppy Pomfrey’s medical wing.

She sat at her desk, logging in the last administration of medication to the two, attaching two sheets of parchment documenting their injuries by diagram to their own personal file. It was with a sad note that the girl’s file was considerably thicker now. Starting back in second year when she accidentally polyjuiced herself with a cat hair, then getting petrified, and now it seemed she was seeing Miss Granger as frequently as if she were a student! The Desuangeo, the duel in the courtyard, now this.

Someone really had it out for this poor girl no matter which house she was in.  
……………………….

Mornings were brighter in the infirmary. Just a simple fact. Even on overcast cloudy ones.

No walls to hide behind, not enough pillows to hide under, and one prompt and chipper healer declaring the glory of it as her sharp heels clacked loudly along the floor as she approached their beds.

He’d barely had the time to revel in the quiet bliss of watching her sleep, mouth agape, a pool of saliva dampening her pillow, and the little snores that escaped her partially squished face. She’d be horrified at how she appeared which made it even more endearing. Without the brace he was certain she would be less of a mess. And her hair was still pulled back and braided, only a few loosening strands edging out of the tight wraps. But there was no mistaking when her lashes fluttered and she yawned loudly with the tip of her tongue curling out as she stretched, flexing her fingers much like a cat.

Not sure if he was imagining it, but he could’ve sworn he heard a purr.

She pawed at her face, wiping at her terribly dry lips and sluggishly trying to sit herself up to no avail. Huffing as she grabbed her bed rail, she gave up on the second try to upright herself before Madam Pomfrey barreled in. Perhaps the charms in place also alerted her to awakened patients; otherwise it was coincidental timing at best. The healer continued on with her routine, running diagnostics and testing reflexes and cognitive abilities. Everything about her two wards was as it should be. 

One at a time, she escorted each to use the loo, making them walk but holding them upright with a safety-catch spell should one of them falter. Hermione walked fine, slow and steady but Draco practically needed a walking stick. He broke a sweat by the time he made it back to his bed, still luckily flush against her own. He gladly flopped back onto the mattress, welcoming it like an old friend.

Once upright and propped against their pillows, a couple of house elves sauntered in with their breakfast trays and levitated them into their laps. They immediately noticed it was not their typical breakfast choices at their table, but something that looked, well, rather like it had been prescribed by a Medi-witch.

Draco then recalled his promise to not complain about the food, medicine, or anything lest he lose the privilege he literally begged for…

Hermione ruefully smiled at him, slipping a finger in between the padding of the brace and the flesh of her neck for a little release, tilting her jaw left and right just to ease the feeling back into it. Nothing that required heavy chewing, porridge and toast and sliced up strawberries and a glass of pumpkin juice. Handling the silverware and bringing it to her mouth was a challenge, and she made quite the mess of herself several times over, despite the diligent scourgifying from the little house elf at her bedside.

God she could kill Marcus Flint for putting her in this position. She looked and felt like a fool. She didn’t dare risk a look at Draco, not only did it require far too much energy to do so-we certainly do take our flexible necks for granted!-but it was one less embarrassment if she just pretended he didn’t see it either. But she could hear him mumble about not having any coffee and she felt her lip curl into a smile despite herself.  
………………………………

It was embarrassing, having to go to Professor Snape himself and have him undo the wards on Granger’s bedroom, but the girl wove her own signature of layered protection that Pansy simply didn’t have the time or energy for if she was going to make it to breakfast and first period without being tardy. Then again, she’d advised her to always keep her room warded and locked so she wasn’t terribly surprised that she did an exemplary job of it. 

But the brightly colored shoebox was distinct and after taking a peek inside, she found what she was quite certain to be the crafts Hermione requested. All sorts of strange looking little things, objects she couldn’t identify and things she did, like the charms of her new friendship bracelet and the colored cord were dead giveaways. Pansy was still touched by the gesture, and that she had included nearly all the girls of their year, and giving a big Fuck You to the likes of Lavender and Daphne while doing so.

She met up along with Theo, carrying a sketchbook and pencils for Draco. On their way to the infirmary they came across Anthony Goldstein holding skinny boxes with weird names printed in bright colors on all sides and muggle looking magazines. Apparently, the rest of Ravenclaw deemed it upon themselves to secure means of entertainment and with the help of some Hufflepuffs, procured a stack of board games, gossip rags, crossword searches, Where’s Wally? books, and someone’s partially built castle Lego set they gave up on.

They piled the cache of items more on Draco’s bed, seeing as he was able to move about with more ease than Hermione, ironically, despite not being able to walk. He dove into the pile with gusto, as if it were Christmas morning, his curiosity outweighing the fact that these were mainly muggle belongings. Each item inspired a dozen questions, which Hermione dutifully answered, relishing in his natural curiosity of muggle inventions.

“So why are LEGO people all yellow skinned?” he asked, holding one up close and examining it with scrutiny.

“I suppose as a way to not offend anyone of color. If everyone is yellow then there’s no race issue.” She replied, holding her craft box up to her face and practically pouring its contents out as she searched for a certain bag of charms.

“Muggles still fight over that?”

“Don’t wizards? I mean, not to point fingers but there was a certain someone who felt I didn’t belong here merely due to my blood status. It’s pretty much the same thing to dislike someone based on their appearance.” She sifted through the box of contents, frustrated at not being able to crane her neck down enough to look in it properly.

He huffed out a sigh and plunked the figure back in the box with the castle pieces, horses, and flags. Blood prejudice was just like plain old racism, merely hating a type of people based on a biological factor they had no control over. “You’re going to spill everything out. Here.” He reached over and eased the box out of her hands. “What are you looking for?”

“I want to make Susan a bracelet, so I need Hufflepuff colors for the thread. I have several little baggies of charms; I’m hoping there’s a badger in the one with animals. Can you look?”

He found the clear baggy and broke the seal, pouring the entirety into his lap and started fishing around.

“How on earth do you have so many of these?”

“Oh I bought a thousand count bag of random assorted charms.” She answered, selecting the yellow and black cords and then wrinkled her brow as she thought for a complimenting third. “Then I sorted them out and put them in those bags so I know what I’m looking for. Try not to lose any.” She continued on, thinking of what she knew about Susan to make her a unique bracelet.

She knew that the majority of her family had been killed in the first wizarding war, despite being a half-blood, but they had been a formidable threat to the Death Eaters and were eliminated. She knew that Susan was short for Susanna, and the name meant either Lily or Rose. Oooh, a rose would be an excellent charm, and perhaps a red cord to go with the yellow and black? It would match her hair quite well. Draco held up several of the little pewter cast animals, finding various creatures ranging from elephants, cats, horses, several types of dogs, and insects. Badgers weren’t common animals as popular mascots.

“I don’t think you have one.” He said after a while, scooping the little metal bits back up and tucking them into the plastic bag.

And so it went for the next twenty minutes, picking through all the bags of charms until she settled on the three, then had Draco hold the end of the three cords as she started braiding it, looping in a charm at every inch and half mark. He watched her work, not minding being her assistant, finding the process oddly interesting. But it was just the beautiful quiet atmosphere he enjoyed the most, having this time together with no one else around, asking questions about muggle things that had been on his mind for some time, and listening to her answers.

“Why bracelets?”

She placed the finished product aside and was scooping up her items. “Firstly, because it’s a cost effective gift that can be made uniquely to its recipient and secondly, it’s one of the things I used to do with my mum. We made so many that we placed them in a jar in my parent’s practice as a reward for kids that behaved.”

“Ah, and what’s this symbol?” he asked, holding up a round coin-like charm that was half black and half white.

“That is called the yin-yang and it is an ancient symbol for unity. You have light and darkness balancing each other out. They also represent the different sexes, for you have to have one of each in order to create life.”

“Which one is which?” They were exactly the same in shape and size.

“Yin is a symbol of earth, femaleness, darkness, passivity, and absorption. It is present in even numbers, in valleys and streams, and is represented by the tiger, the colour orange, and a broken line. Yang is conceived of as heaven, maleness, light, activity, and penetration. It is present in odd numbers, in mountains, and is represented by the dragon, the colour azure, and an unbroken line. The two are both said to proceed from the Great Ultimate (taiji), their interplay on one another (as one increases the other decreases) being a description of the actual process of the universe and all that is in it. In harmony, the two are depicted as the light and dark halves of a circle.” She recited from memory, a clearly textbook response.

“Wait.” He said, catching onto the animal depictions. “A tiger and a dragon?” He grinned widely. “That’s not too off the mark.”

She slowly turned herself to see his epiphamantic face, catching the thread and following through with it to its conclusion. “I’d say we certainly are prime candidates for being a yin-yang.” He was about to hand it back to her when she said “Keep it. There’s plenty more where that came from. It’s a widely popular symbol in modern culture despite its ancient Japanese origin.”

His smile alone was worth it, holding the little enameled bit of jewelry like it was mother-of-pearl and black diamond. He leaned over his bed and placed it on the nightstand, wondering how he’d incorporate it into his wardrobe. With her crafts properly stored away, she started pulling on the blanket, scooting the pile of gifted items towards her.  
“Eh?” he turned around, and snatched the blanket out of her hand, shook it back smoothly and then grabbed the stack. “You could ask for help you know.” He admonished, picking out the Where’s Wally? book and giving it a once over. “So, you have to look for this bloke? How hard could that be?”

She giggled as he opened the book, eyes going wide. “Oh.”

The next half hour was filled with Draco’s careful scrutiny and unrelenting need to not move from the page until he’d located the slippery bloke in glasses, with Hermione trying to rein in her amusement with his frustration as the character would seemingly appear in a place he swore he already searched. He considered it quite the challenge to find him before she did, even though she swore she didn’t have a copy of this particular book within her collection, she naturally knew what to look for.

“You know, in America they call him Waldo.”

He laughed. “Waldo sounds ridiculous.”  
…………………………..

A few slight mishaps during a flying lesson with some first years, a cauldron boil over in third year, and the mishandling of the latest of Hagrid’s creatures with a fifth year had given Madam Pomfrey plenty to do besides cater to her two more pressing patients. It was quite a relief for her that they had chosen to keep themselves quietly entertained with puzzles and books and taking their prescribed potions as delegated.

When Lavender Brown came shrieking into the medical wing with Devil’s Snare entangled in her hair, the healer rolled her eyes and ordered the hysteric Gryffindor to calm down so that she could disentangle the plant’s vines from her strawberry blonde curls. But the girl was inconsolable, loudly protesting that it had been the deliberate attack from Pansy Parkinson as her fellow classmate and friend Parvati held onto her as per the healer’s instructions.

Hermione and Draco sat, amused and quietly snickering to themselves as Pomfrey began pouring a substance on the plant infused with sunlight since the sky was overcast, making it shrink back, unfortunately tightening its hold on her hair and yanking out some tendrils by the root. Lavender thrashed, only making it worse as the plant reacted in kind, until Pomfrey held up a pair of scissors and threatened to use them, shutting her up effectively as the plant continued to wither away until it fell out. 

Madam Pomfrey jarred the dried plant remains and handed it to Parvati. “See that Snape receives this. I’m sure the man will find some use for it.”

She turned to the wet-eyed and sniffling Lavender, glaring daggers at Hermione from across the room. “And you’re fine now. Just a little tender-headed.” She dismissed to the Gryffindor’s shock.

“What? That’s it?” Lavender cried in indignation. “That thing ripped some of my hair out!”

“Looks like an improvement.” Draco said in a low enough voice to be heard, earning him a baleful glare from both the healer and patient. In return he jiggled his head in a ‘what?’ kind of response but remained silent.

“Don’t I get a pain relief potion or something?”

“No.” the Medi-Witch sternly declined. “Having some hair pulled does not equate to the same pain level as those who have suffered broken bones and abrasions. I’m not in the business of pampering every boo-boo.”

Lavender huffed and shoved off the bed. “Your bitch-snake Parkinson did this!” she vehemently insisted, pointing to the most prominent spot where hair had been yanked. Honestly nothing a dab of Manegro Potion wouldn’t fix or a new hairstyle.

“We’ll be sure to thank her then.” Hermione replied sanguinely, watching her face flush much like Ron’s before she stomped her foot and stormed out. Draco snuck his hand into hers.

“I love how Slytherin you are.”  
………………………………..

Lunch was another lackluster meal, in Draco’s opinion, but he held his tongue. This was the longest he’d gone without complaining about, well, anything and frankly it was wearing his patience thin. He’d never been a good patient, whether ill or injured, he had far too much energy to be detained. Despite damn well knowing his legs could barely carry him to the loo all he wanted to do was run through the courtyard and wrestle one of the guys to the ground. He itched to do something physically stimulating.

Hermione kept sliding a finger in between the brace and her neck as if one would with a collar that itched. All she wanted to do was roll her shoulders and pop her neck, to hear that telltale satisfying crick that would radiate down her spine in all the right ways. Being immobilized as she was went against her instincts and she was constantly at war with herself to refrain from removing the blasted thing just to feel normal. It was making the task of eating far more messier and difficult than it needed to be.

Hence why the little house elf remained at her side, napkin at the ready, dabbing at her chin to collect the little dribble of soup that she’d had the misfortune to miss the target that was her mouth.

Well damn, it’s big enough; you’d think I couldn’t even miss a spoonful of soup?! She angrily chided herself before slamming the spoon down and picking the bowl up, right to her lips and guzzling the broth before the startled elf could take it away. With a satisfying smack, she licked her lips and set the bowl down.

“Don’t judge me.” she warned Draco.

“Haven’t the foggiest…” he said, sipping his soup with his pinky up. Little ponce.  
……………………………

She barely just got herself settled back into her bed from the loo when a bright red bundle caught her eye before she registered that distinct scent and the heavily accented voice that accompanied them. The bouquet of a dozen red roses was unexpected to say, at the very least, although the gesture was met with honest intentions.

He placed the bouquet on her side table before sitting half a cheek on the edge of her bed. “How is de neck? I heard…broken bone?”

Just then, Madam Pomfrey was escorting Draco from his use of the bathroom, noting the slow and wincing gait he had until he saw Viktor Krum sitting on Hermione’s bed, hand on her knee. He was suddenly upright and practically leaping across the room in long strides before the burst of energy cost him and he faltered once he reached his bed.

“Krum!” he hissed. “What are you doing here?”

“Visiting HaermeONae. And you, fellow Seeker and Slytherin.” He grinned innocently, then reached into his pocket and tossed Draco a tiny bauble that he caught with his quick reflex before he even registered what it was. The Medi-Witch helped him back into his bed, propping his knees up with another pillow and leaving them to their unexpected visitor.

Draco opened his palm and wasn’t surprised it was a Snitch, only the color of it.

“Green?”

“To help better see, against de snow….even gohld can blend in. De green shows better.” He answered as Draco held up the tiny sphere with mild intrigue. “And ‘hoo knew? Yur house color too.”

Draco had to admit, a green snitch was pretty damn cool looking. It felt better, having one in his house color rather than the gold the high-and-mighty Gryffindors flaunted. It gleaned like an emerald, unique among the ones here at Hogwarts. “Thank you.” He said, slightly humbled by the gesture.

“I tink, I have worried dat Dragon did not treat you well, but I have heard good tings.” Viktor said, turning back to Hermione. His confession burned her cheeks for she felt a pang at basically abandoning him after the argument with Ron, and her encounter with Draco afterwards. After that, she had meandered to the Great Hall only to excuse herself and never looked back.

“I appreciate that Viktor, really. But Draco has been a perfect gentleman. I’m sorry…I never did explain things….” She trailed off.

Viktor held up a hand for her to halt her apology. “Yor ‘ords are most kind, but I speak plainly wheen I say…dat we are most different. You still have many years of school left. Exchange ledders, yes? Perhaps?” he looked over at Draco as if to ask permission. “Keep updated wit Quichich and such?”

“Sure mate.” Draco replied. “We’ll write.”

“Otlichno!*” he exclaimed. “Enjoy de rozes.” *excellent*

When he left Draco tossed the snitch up in air and caught it. “I guess he’s not so bad. But he’s got another thing coming if he thinks he has a chance.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “There’s nothing to be jealous over.”

“Who says I’m jealous?”

She snorted most unladylike. “Practically written all over you. The way you flew over here and got in his face. Oh and then the look you had when he said you might not have been treating me right?” she tsked since she couldn’t shake her head. “Everything you’re doing is screaming ‘jealous boyfriend’. It’s not like he was asking me to leave with him when school ends.”

He scowled as he tossed the snitch up and caught it again. “I’m NOT jealous. Jealousy would imply that I want something I do not have.”

“Draco, what would make you think that I would leave you?”

He gripped the snitch tightly. “You have so many reasons to leave me.”

The unspoken reasons floated in the air like Luna’s wrackspurts, they were there, you just couldn’t see them. He turned over and set the snitch down with a heftier thud than was necessary and sighed. 

“You think every bruise and scrape and attempt on my life is enough of a reason? If that was the case then I should’ve stopped being friends with Harry after first year.”

“Yeah well maybe you should’ve.” He added in sullenly. 

“Draco. Stop it.” She said in her ‘putting her foot down’ voice. “I told you I’m not going anywhere. I like you. I’m your girlfriend. Now stop letting every other wizard out there make you feel like you need to fight in order to keep me with you.”

He resigned himself with a sigh. She was right; she already was his and didn’t need to be won over. That still didn’t ease the tension he felt whenever a wizard he didn’t trust-practically all of them except Harry, Theo, and Blaise-was near her. She was like sunlight; it brought all creatures from their hidden logs and rocks to bask in her glow. 

It was then that Pansy and Theo strolled in with the assignments from morning classes, giving them something to fill their time with and hopefully finish by the time afternoon classes were over. The homework was a welcome distraction from the current topic of conversation, and they managed to convince their concerned classmates that the tension they were picking up on was just restless energy and boredom. Arthimancy and History were welcome sights. 

“Nice job on Lavender’s hair.” Hermione winked at Pansy as she opened up her schoolbook. Pansy winked back.

“Hey, don’t let those Gryffindorks get the lead on points just because we’re not there!” Draco called after Theo on his way out, waving him off.  
………………………

Sybil Trelawney was a woman who lived in the moment, even if the moment wasn’t in the present. More often than not, she was seen in a daze, muttering incoherent ramblings that made no sense to the common passerby, and yet she was held in high regard for her prophecies, visions, and predictions. She had a way of waltzing about in a perpetual state of surprise and satisfaction that she was correct.

So it was that odd mix of ‘ah, I was expecting you’ and ‘oh my what a pleasant surprise!’ when Ginny accompanied Luna to her class on Sunday and requested to speak with her. When Ginny spoke up, apparently the unofficial spokesperson of their duo, revealing the secret nature of her Ravenclaw friend, the Divination professor happily clapped and congratulated her for embracing her newfound gift, then went in a morbid voice to say she ought to prepare herself for seeing the worst sights imaginable.

Ginny bout yanked Luna out of her grasp and turned tail had it not been for the soft voice coming from the fey little blonde saying “I believe I already have.”

The next hour had Ginny sympathizing with Hermione’s mindset that their professor was a washed up Seer with a drinking problem, and yet not fully able to shake the words of advice she leaned over the crystal ball and lost herself in its opulent hue. Ginny held her third teacup, still trying to figure out how to decipher the remaining leaves as Luna recounted the vague details of her first vision, how something silver and a pair of blue eyes would bring harm to Hermione.

As they talked about the variants of what the silver element could be, they were unaware of the ambush happening in Hogsmeade, with one assailant having blue eyes.

Ginny then recounted the strange and cryptic warning that emanated from her friend’s lips while in her trance, writing it down as Trelawney suggested and looking over each word, nodding her head and speaking in hushed tones to herself. 

“Oh, a grim fate lies ahead indeed! The death I have foreseen is at hand.”

Oh course; everyone was well acquainted with her yearly warning of a death in the student body. Frankly, given how the last few years had been with a Basilisk slithering through the pipeline, she wasn’t too far off the mark and her words were being more heeded with caution than skepticism. 

Hermione of all people should be one of them. Ginny thought.

But, not everyone could be a believer. Ginny herself wasn’t so sure but she knew Luna was not one to fake such a thing. It went against her nature to even remotely tease another, so there was no way that she planned an elaborate ‘vision’ to mock their teacher, especially when no one else but her was around to see it. Hoping that Creevey hadn’t caught any of that on his camera…

Creevey….He was a whole other problem to deal with.

Now, having seen both Hermione and Draco Malfoy battered and bruised she knew that Luna’s cryptic words regarded them. After all, wasn’t Hermione referred to as the Chimera now? So now she stood firm with Luna on informing them, to help keep Hermione safe from further harm.

“Let me do it, I’ll tell Draco.” She said.

“Draco? Why?”

“Because I told him last time, and he believes me. And he will protect her.”

Ginny raised a red eyebrow. Luna sounded so sure. And she wasn’t going to squash that belief in her. So she gave her a nod and trusted the Ravenclaw.  
……………………………….

Draco had a pillow propped in his lap, sketchbook pressed into the soft bundle as he worked diligently to replicate the image of a girl in pink, with long flowing hair, smiling at him as the girl he drew sat in her own bed, leaned back with a book in hand now that they had completed all their written assignments. Being injured excused them from any magical projects as it would interrupt their healing process. 

They had fallen into a silent truce after their pseudo-argument, choosing not to broach the subject-or any other than regarding schoolwork-and selecting each their own way of staying occupied.

The dinner trays had been carried away, bangers and mash, more steamed vegetables and a slice of soft baked bread, with a little cup of pudding to chase it down. Draco swore he was going to eat and entire goose with all the trimmings to make up for the insulting hospital grade meals being provided despite the fact they were still within the school building. Hermione just hummed along to his quiet grumblings, silently agreeing that they already suffered enough.

When Madam Pomfrey came back for another round of diagnostics, administered pain relief paste rubbed into places they couldn’t reach, and another walk to the toilet, they were pleasantly surprised to see Luna Lovegood, sitting on Draco’s bed, swinging her legs back and forth with her usual warm smile.

“Miss Lovegood, visiting hours are coming to a close.” The healer reminded her.

“It’s alright, I just came to say goodnight.” She replied. When Draco met her eye she tapped her fingers against his sketchbook, indicating a message was inside for him. “I could always read a’loud The Beedle and The Bard if you like?” she asked sweetly.

Hermione chuckled. “No thanks Luna, I was actually immersed in this little story Lisa Turpin left for me.” she lifted the Bruce Coville paperback, Into The Land of Unicorns. Sure it was a Scholastic and meant for children but it was beautifully written, she could see why Lisa had brought it to a school that taught magic, probably to see if it compared.

“Alright, goodnight then.” She said, sliding off the bed with ease and heading out without another word. 

After they were both settled in their beds, they had each picked up their respective book and resumed their previous activity. Draco wanted to finish the drawing before delving into the message Luna left, with the inkling that he wasn’t going to like what she had to say. It didn’t take Hermione long to finish the book and sighed.

“That was a lovely story.” She flipped the cover over and read some information on the back about the author, delighted to find he was the same man who had written the My Teacher is An Alien series which she had quickly devoured in third grade. They were hilarious.

“It’s about unicorns, of course it would be.” He scoffed, flicking away some eraser remnants before applying the soft strokes of chestnut brown in her wind-blown hair.  
“Unicorns just appeal to girls like dragons do to boys.”

“That’s sexist.” She replied flatly. “I happen to like dragons too. Particularly a white one with an icy exterior and grey eyes….”

He nearly broke the lead of his pencil.

A second later he lifted his eyes to see her mahogany orbs burning holes into his soul. He coughed and tugged at the collar of his patient robes and tried to give nothing away. “Ahem, Miss Granger…is that a flirt I hear?”

Her mischievous giggle sent his heart racing.

“You’re distracting me love.” He stated sternly-or at least as stern as he could sound, given the break in his voice and the flush in his cheeks. 

“I know.” She purred.

If they weren’t in the infirmary he would’ve gladly dropped the sketchpad on the floor to scoop her into his lap. He bet she knew that too and was merely flexing her newly discovered power over him. If there was only one person he’d grant that right to, it would be her. The basorexia bubbling up within him was a hard feeling to squash, but he managed. Only barely though.

“I take it you’re no longer mad at me?”

“I wasn’t mad at you to begin with.” She countered, shifting herself back against the pillows. “I was merely trying to make a point across to you on a behavioral trait you were displaying.”

“That you were displeased with.” He pointed out, continuing on with filling in the richness of her hair on the parchment.

“Displeased but not mad.” She agreed. “It’s not like I get jealous when you speak with other witches.”

He snorted. “That’s because Pansy and Tracey already have a wizard on their arm, Millicent has never struck my fancy, and Daphne has already been made aware of my feelings.”  
“Yes, but I also do not lose all rationale just because you’re in close proximity to one. It would be incredibly toxic if we didn’t allow ourselves to have friends of the opposite gender. You know Harry is like a brother to me. He will always be like that and nothing more.”

“I’m not worried about Potter.” He replied firmly. No, Harry Potter was one of the few he knew he didn’t have to worry about. 

“It’s just everyone else then isn’t it?” she finished for him. When he didn’t dignify it with a response, she followed up with a question of her own.

“Draco, what makes you so insecure about yourself that you believe I’m only with you because you happen to be some sort of perceived best choice, until another presents itself?”

He groaned in his throat because this was exactly where he DIDN’T want the conversation to fall back to. He’d always been so sure of himself in everything else; grades, Quidditch, social standing, even with girls, he was confident and knew what was expected and how to present himself and what to do. But that was with pureblood socialites, not a tomboy muggleborn he’d let his fathers’ prejudice dictate his behavior towards. 

He sighed and set the pencil down. His eyes remained on the sketch, the girl in a pink dress with the wind blowing in her hair. “We didn’t have the ideal start: boy meets girl, boy woos girl, boy wins girl. Instead it was boy meets girl, boy bullies girl, boy makes girl hate him.” His fingers traced over the ruffles of the dress as if he could feel the organza rather than the paper. “You deserved to be wooed properly, by a gentleman, no matter how little wealth he has compared to me, he would still be a better man…. And what if one come along? You’d weigh your options and choose the bloke than never made you doubt yourself.”

“So you’re just waiting for what? For someone like Terry Boot or Ernie Macmillan to tell me to ditch you and that I actually will?”

“Or Diggory.” Draco mumbled lowly, but she heard.

She crossed her arms. “Fine then.” She said flatly. “I’ll let you know the moment when one of them does.”

“Hermione…”

She angrily pulled herself to a sitting position. “No Draco, you don’t get it do you? Look around, tell me where we are. Why we’re here. Why I’M here.” She indicated the empty room around them. “If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have been in Hogsmeade. Hell, I wouldn’t have even been inside Spintwitches!” her voice rose, making him wince ever so slightly. “You honestly think I’d go through all that broom testing if I wasn’t willing to meet you in the middle and try to give flying a chance? Like Harry and Ron ever got me to stay in there longer than five minutes! I chose to do it. Like I chose to be with you. Why can’t you see it?” her voice cracked with emotion.

She barely had time to wipe her eye before Madam Pomfrey came rushing in, face full of concern from having her spell triggered. Hermione realized then that one of the things she spelled room for was an elevation in heartrate, as hers was flared up. “Is everything alright in here?” she asked, looking sternly at Draco.

“Yes,” Hermione answered. “I’m sorry; I just got upset about what happened yesterday. I’m fine, I promise.”

“Do I need to separate the two of you?” she warned.

“That won’t be necessary Ma’am.” Draco replied in subdued voice. “It just came on unexpectedly. We’ll try to stay away from such topics.”

“See that you do. Or the next time I have to come in here rest assured these beds will be back to their original positions.” Her warning hovered in the air for several beats after her departure.

“I’m sorry.” Hermione whispered, wiping at her eye again. “I just figured you’d know this by now.”

He plucked the sketchbook off his lap and scooted himself over to her. “No Hermione I’m sorry. I keep doing this. It’s just… What is it about him? Hmm? Why do you get all flustered around him? Is it because he’s older? Taller?”

All she did was shake her head sorrowfully. Cedric was handsome and fit and yes, much taller and older and every bit a gentleman. But he was a taken wizard. By her friend no less. It was wrong to even admit she had a little fancy for him. And Draco just wouldn’t understand. It wouldn’t put him at ease. He had a very valid concern in regards to their relationship. But she was well aware of her feelings for Draco, and how strong they were in comparison to the little crush she had on the Hufflepuff. Draco was a raging bonfire while Cedric was just the toasty fireplace in the common room.

She nervously reached for his hand, ever so glad he took it without hesitation. “He isn’t You. And I’m with You.” She said. “You’re my wizard Draco.”

My Wizard.

Draco felt a warmth in his chest he was positive that it could burn the clothing on his chest if it lasted any longer. He hadn’t realized those were the words he needed to hear until they passed her lips. It’d always been him, him saying that she was his witch and none other, thinking it would be enough. But she had to go and do it again, just when he thought he couldn’t be taken in by surprise, she had to go and say the thing that threatened the very function of his heart. 

If he wasn’t careful, the next time he opened his mouth it was bound to jump right out and fall into her hands.  
………………………….

It was Light’s Out. 

All their books and games and the completed LEGO castle had been removed from their beds and placed on the side tables and Madam Pomfrey had just finished tucking them with one last round of mild pain relief potion and encouraging words that they could be released tomorrow. 

They lay there, drowsy and feeling the effects of their medication, adjusting to achieve that golden comfortable position with a resounding silence as their ambience. 

Ever since second year, neither one of them had very much liked the infirmary.

Draco was the first to speak up. “Do you ever think about how Yule ball led to this?”

There was some rustling as she shifted herself so she could see him. “It goes back further than Yule.” She said to his confusion. “It was Halloween, when Harry’s name came out of the Goblet….that’s what set this in motion.”'

It dawned on him, how normal everything had been those first two months of the school year. The animosity rife as ever against the three of them, only the secret knowledge of what he’d known was going to be in his near future bearing any burden on him until that fourth name popped out. And then he knew. This was the year when they (his father and the Death Eaters) would make their move.

He watched. Watched as the fabric that held the Golden Trio started to fray. Watched as stress and jealousy and unwanted attention weighed them down and begin to crack what had seemed like an unbreakable mold.

It had been those cracks which had shown enough light to let him slip in between the stones of their barrier and cross enemy lines. It had to start out slow, he had to earn her trust, then Harry’s, he couldn’t just jump in with the information he had and expect them to believe him. It was a simple self-proclaimed mission of his with just the goal in mind, never expecting things to become so complicated. And yet, now he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He had the witch he’d always wanted. He had the friendship he’d originally sought out in first year. He had finally bested Weaselrunt in every way.

And with that came the bittersweet knowledge that his father was a despicable man with no love in his heart that he would have to openly defy if he ever wanted a life with the brilliant witch lying beside him.

“Well, actually dear…if you really want to know what put this in motion…” he drawled, thinking back to their first day of first year with a smile on his face that could be heard. “It was all because Longbottom lost his damn toad.”

She giggled. “Ahhhh, you may be right. Perhaps we should thank him….”

His fingers brushed against her hand. “Neville or the toad?” he asked, causing both of them to break out into drunken-like giggles.

“Either. Both. I’ve never been more thankful for a lost toad in all my life.” She said with a sleepy sigh.

He brought her hand up to his mouth, kissing her knuckles. “Me either love.”  
………………………………


	62. Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron makes a surprising visit and statement to Hermione. It ends up changing everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *TRIGGER WARNING* Gaslighting and Victim Shaming.
> 
> I struggled with this chapter. For a whole week, I was only able to write small bits before flitting off to another story (where I'd write several chapters!) or had some outside distractions, like my birthday and the first snow of the season and a day where I slept a migraine away.
> 
> So, I was in a situation some years ago-right before I met my my husband-in which I knew I was being manipulated, gaslit, and shamed by someone I was over the moon for. And when it all came to the inevitable conflict which opened my eyes, I was so shocked that it got that far. That I allowed it to get that far. That I put myself in that situation-you see, this is how it works. Even almost a decade later I still blame myself...  
> So I sought out some therapy and started carrying an arsenal of knives on my person and stopped going to all the places I once went out with this person (which didn't leave me a lot of options considering the size of the town) and started playing D&D with a group of friends I knew from working the local renaissance faire and over the course of a year started feeling normal in my own skin again. And then I went to an anime convention and met the man I married. LOL but that's a tale for another day.  
> I digress. I didn't think that writing a similar situation would be so hard on me. i can write smut, violence, bloody action and whatnot, but this had me feeling like I had spiders on my skin...

Morning had always been her favorite time of day. She loved the shift in energy from the gentle content peace the night brought into the flurry of motion that was the waking up process. When birds chirped, rays of sunlight peeked through curtains, the body stretched and flexed, and everything felt alive.

But in the lingering grey space between awake and asleep, she found a new favorite moment to savor.

A face she’d never seen in slumber, and how hauntingly beautiful that boy looked when all his walls were down and he wasn’t scowling. His platinum blonde locks fell against alabaster white skin, with lashes that were equally pale, like miniature angel wings protecting his stormy eyes as he roamed the Land of Nod. He’d sparked that initial passion with the golden frames of his reading glasses accentuating his eyes, but here in the sanctuary the infirmary offered, safe from prying eyes and opinions of others, there was nothing holding him back from finally relaxing in his skin and being a living, breathing piece of art. She felt in awe, like she did in the Louvre, gawking at all the historical art.  
Her hand was still tucked within his, her sun-kissed tan skin against his carved marble hued fingers that still refused to let her go, even in sleep. Laying on her right side and he on his left, the bruised side of his face was swallowed in the padding of his pillow. The cadence of his breaths, every flicker of an eyelash, and the tiny twitch of his mouth had Hermione wondering how someone as unearthly beautiful as this wizard had his heart set on her.

She didn’t have a lineage of magical ancestry-that she was aware of-that had centuries of careful and selective matchmaking with other strong genetic families, carrying on unique and notable traits that became a signature synonymous as their name. Now that she had seen and met both his parents there was absolutely no denying Draco inherited the strong features of his father, although not as sharp. There was still a chance as he grew that he’d favored his mother’s softness.

Right here in this moment, he was his mother’s son. 

Knowing Madam Pomfrey would be in shortly, she tried extracting her hand from his, triggering his reflex to immediately hold on tighter. “…’s mine.” He said defiantly, brows furrowed, obviously arguing with someone in his repose.

She couldn’t help but be amused at the childish display; he was unintentionally cute when he did it. He surely must’ve been a little heartbreaker against Narcissa’s maternal instincts. No wonder he was used to getting his way. Hell, hadn’t it even worked against their usually stoic and impassive school healer? The pulchritudinous blond had swayed even her with a flutter of those wispy white lashes. 

She wriggled her hand once more, only to bring out a stronger resolve in him to maintain possession by bringing his other hand up and clasping it over hers. Her right hand was essentially trapped in the firm grip of the Slytherin seeker, flexing strength in his digits to keep hold like he did the little metallic ball with wings.

“Draco…” she called to him, reaching over as best she could with her left arm to jostle his shoulder. He flung his elbow upwards, casting her hand aside and continued holding her hand in a death grip. “Draco please…wake up. It’s me.”

“Back. Off.” He growled dangerously.

Hermione sighed. “Oh good grief.” Dream arguing with someone over something. The fierce dragon hoarding his treasure close by. “Draco!” she called louder, hoping to disrupt the scene.

He shook his head firmly, muttering ‘No’ and grunting as if hurt. “You can’t…”

“Draco, you’ve got to wake up and let me go.” She pleaded, shaking his arm and trying to pull out of his grip.

“….won’t let go…”

Of course you won’t, who am I kidding? She thought wryly as he started jerking as if in a fight. Ok, let’s just add a dislocated shoulder to the list on injuries because Mr. Clingy had a bad dream….

“Draco!” she shouted, enough to jostle him and grab the attention of the Medi-Witch. The woman came marching in at the speed of a power-walk, setting a tray of potions down and extracting her wand.

“It’s just a bad dream.” She informed the woman. “I just can’t free my hand.”

“Mister Malfoy, snap out of it.” The woman firmly demanded, taking hold of his arm while pointing her wand. She would use it if necessary.

“Get off of her!” he retorted, squirming now against the woman and his invisible foes.

Hermione winced as his fingers dug in, pinching her wrist at an uncomfortable angle and grinding the bones together. She kept telling herself, he doesn’t know what he’s doing, he doesn’t know… Locked in his talons and the immobilizing neck brace, she was a disadvantage to rescue herself. “Owww.” She cried, prompting Madam Pomfrey to stun his arm with a well-placed hex, rendering him limp and free of his subconscious fight.

The beds were immediately parted as she stepped in between and helped Hermione sit up, running her wand over with diagnostics. Pain in her wrist showed up with a fluctuating red glow, making the elder witch scowl.

“He didn’t mean it ma’am, he was dreaming.” She defended, despite how she cradled the wrist and rubbed it.

He groaned, hand roving over his face and through his hair. His chest heaved with short breaths, bringing the healer to his side to run her own diagnostic over him. Perspiration, anxiety, elevated heart rate…Just a bad dream on top of sore muscles.

“Come Mister Malfoy, you’re in need of the infirmary’s calming bath if you’re to function today.”

He peered around from the woman’s side, noticing the distance between his bed and Hermione’s, and seeing the look in her eye that pinched at him. He shot an eye up at his school nurse. “What are you implying? That I stink or something?” he mimped.

“Oi indeed your highness.” Poppy shot back, years of dealing with sass from all age ranges, his being no different. Though he was a contender for being at the top of her memorable P.I.T.A. (Pain in the Arse) list. “Up we go.” She hauled him to his feet like he weighed next to nothing, standing him upright as if he didn’t already meet her eye with the promise to tower over her someday and spun him in the direction of the school’s very own bath for the infirmary, apparently a little known fact among the student body.  
“You alright dear?” she called over her shoulder at Hermione. “I’ll be a few.”

The little brunette raised her hand and waved her off, indicating she would be fine for the duration of her absence. After all, it’d only be a few minutes, what could possibly happen in here?  
………………………………..

Breakfast at the Gryffindor table was quieter than most other meals, even quieter than most of the other tables. Distinct boundaries had been erected-or demolished-since the Golden Girl became a serpent and the trade-off between two lions and snakes had everyone adjusting to the new seating arrangements. There were some who clearly had no trust over the arrival of Crabbe and Goyle, and there were those who were all too pleased with the change.

This certainly had become the strangest year so far, with surprises around every corner. The new hot gossip was of course the public shaming of a Slytherin trio, with Lavender happily pointing out that she’d for herself how battered and bruised Hermione and Draco were, only to be shot down by everyone else saying they’d already been there to visit and were well-aware. If she’d been going for shock value, she was late to the party.

Word of Neville’s “lucky punch” was also falling from flapping gums to Ron’s unease, still trying to play it down to nothing as dramatic as that when he bit into an apple and nearly screamed. He felt the coppery taste of blood in his mouth and the jerk of his most prominent tooth as it pierced the taunt skin and tough interior of the fruit. It was the same tooth Neville almost removed for him yesterday and he’d nearly completed the job for him. Claiming he bit his tongue, he excused himself and promptly left the Great Hall, detouring from the direction of the loo and heading straight on to the infirmary.  
………………………….

“I’m almost fifteen, I’m fully capable of undressing myself!” the boy hissed at his healer.

“Do you think I haven’t seen my fair share of male genitalia in my years as a Healer? I’ve brought babies into this world and have seen old men to the Veil and everything in between. If you think I’m going to swoon over your pale prick you’ve got another thing coming laddie, now strip or I shall do it for you.”

Draco groaned and shook his head before ripping the hospital gown off with defiance and shimmying out of his boxers. It behooved him to still need assistance into the tub but once he got in his hands immediately went to his lap as he adverted his gaze. The healer poured in Murtlap essence and sprinkled in Epsom salts. He had to admit the water felt great on his body, already sending healing inflections to the bruised parts.

“Like I’m putting up with that pout of yours another day!” she huffed, determined to pump him full of meds and anything else needed to have a Malfoy-free infirmary today. “Sit and soak, let it do its job and you should be fine enough to walk on your own. Do not even think of sitting on a broom today.” She warned as she flitted about the bathing room, gathering towels and checking the cabinet for anything else she could throw on him.

Locating a bottle of Burning Bitterroot Balm, she levitated it and poured it down his back and ordered him to cup his hands and rub it on the backs of his knees unless he wanted her to do it. She immediately was granted the sounds of sloshing and skin scrubbing skin.

She smirked ever so delightfully to herself. All dragons quaked in the presence of a strong woman.  
………………………………

“Mione?” 

A sharp squeal of fright escaped her as she turned around, shocked to see Ronald Weasley before her, having come to her bedside and gently touched her arm since she’d been so absorbed in her book.

“What happened to you?”

At first she didn’t register. He was speaking, saying something, but it was all white noise. Her blood pounded in her ears so loudly she thought she’d go deaf. It took another moment, and in that while she was registering the strange look of concern on his face, something that had long since been replaced with scowls and sneers.

“At first I thought she was exaggerating, but look at you…”

She wasn’t sure what boggled him more; the neck brace or her hair.

“Well, I hope you see now, being among the snakes was a mistake.”

What.

What?

WHAT?

She backed up, aiming a confused and angered set of mahogany eyes at him. “Like you have room to talk!”

“Oh come on, I didn’t hurt you this bad.” He shrugged his shoulders. “So we banged each other up, just goes to show you don’t go down easy.”

Was he high?

“I have more friends in Slytherin than I do in Gryffindor.” She stated, almost ready to start naming names just to spell it out in no unclear terms. “Besides, this is curtsey of your new two bosom buddies, who now have been welcomed to the lion’s table, so don’t start semantics with me.”

“Eh they just need a leader to follow.” He replied casually. “They’re not bosom buddies. You could always come back you know, tell everyone you’re sorry and snatch the House Cup right from under their noses!” he laughed.

Hermione felt sick. Something wasn’t right with him.

“There’s no going back Ron. I’m Slytherin now. And you made it very clear I wasn’t welcome in your precious little world of Us vs Them. I left you. I left all of you. I’m not coming back.”

He massaged his jaw a bit, still trying to work out that sore tooth. “Ok, maybe not enough time left in this year, but you could always make a fresh start next year. I’m sure Snape will be sick to death of you by then to already have the transfer ready before you can ask.”

He just wasn’t getting it. She never wanted to come back. Not to that table. Those people.

“Can’t you see Mione? Draco’s only using you, making you think he likes you. He let them do this.” He touched her neck brace, causing her to flinch back and smack at his hand.  
“Don’t touch.” She warned. “And you’re wrong.”

“Come on, I know you’re upset with me. But going so far to snog that slimy snake? Surely you can’t believe he actually cares? I don’t care what he did, what he said, or what he’s given you. He doesn’t mean it Mione. He doesn’t have what we have.”

“What. We. Have?” she gaped, starting to become alarmed that Madam Pomfrey had not emerged yet.

“Yeah, you’re right; I should’ve asked you to Yule. I didn’t realize you were actually expecting ME to ask you. I mean, I fully expected you to have everything all planned out like you usually do; your dress, my robes, all of it. Just tell me to where to stand and go together.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “You just had to go and be all emotional over a little misunderstanding and turn this into the feud it’s been all year long.”

Hermione had dealt with gaslighting all through her muggle education. Boys, especially grown men, didn’t like it when a girl not only spoke up but was correct while doing it, and didn’t back down from their imposing will. She’d had several parent/teacher conferences for arguing with professors to the point of threatening to retire if she wasn’t removed from their class, no longer capable of dealing with a strong will and a mouth that wouldn’t be silenced.

She never expected it to come in the form victim shaming, especially from someone who was once a dear friend.

Somehow, that made it hurt all the more and she couldn’t stop the tears from burning at her eyes as he continued in his convoluted rambling that this all stemmed from her raging hormones and all would be forgiven if she just got a grip. Such was the opposite case with Draco, who blamed himself for everything little thing that had befallen her. It was frightening how the traits she once considered to be right and just and those that were selfish and wrong had sloshed together in a muddled mess, no longer neat and tidy but mucked and streaked with a few bands of color. A toxic brew instead of the healing potion.

“Ron…” she shook her head-as much as one could in a neck brace-completely at a loss for words.

He smiled. That dimple inducing, bright eyed smile that used to warm her heart as he brought a thumb up to wipe at her tear. A thread of cold fear froze her blood, her body, her mind…She simply didn’t know what to do.

“I know, I’ve missed you too.” He softly stated as if she had somehow uttered an apology. “You’re still my girl, despite this little stint with Lav. Don’t worry bout her though, and I’ll dump her soon enough and we can be together like it was intended. Mum’ll be so happy, Ginny’ll come ‘round, and Harry will fall right back like none of this ever happen and we’ll be better than ever before.”

Panic started to settle in, she could feel it in her bones. Her breathing in short quick bursts, the heartbeat that she couldn’t even keep count of, the clamminess of her palms that gripped the sheets of her bed as she dared her eyes to look for the healer. There was a dizziness in her head, smothering feeling in her face as the brace felt like a choking hand at her throat which was as dry as the fresh parchment in her satchel.

I need help.

This is wrong.

His other hand brushed strands of hair away from her face, mentioning how he liked it long and straight and that it was better this way. No one would call her a bushy beaver again. His hand started trailing down her neck brace and picked up the braid, admiring the lush rope of chestnut tendrils. She was absolutely rigid, faced off with a predator that in any instant could snap, using her beloved hair like a weapon.

Merlin, Morgana and Salazar’s sweaty balls, where the hell was someone? Anyone? Hell even Crookshanks! 

“Y-you should g-go…” she stammered, trying to sound as neutral sounding as possible. “She’ll be back soon.”

“It’s alright,” he purred along, playing with her hair. “Almost had a tooth knocked out by Neville you know. I’m here for a little something, so it’s alright.”

No, no it’s not alright.

“You look kinda cute in hospital robes…” he smirked.

Her stomach dropped, bringing acidic bile up in her throat. She never wanted to puke so much in her whole life, but she had nothing to sacrifice to the cause.  
……………………………

“We’ll need to discuss these nightmares of yours.”

Draco hunched his shoulders at the notion of having to discuss anything with the healer woman. It was bad enough she had to catch him in his birthday suit for the bath, but now this? And his nightmares would give her reason to call St. Mungo’s. Visions of fire among the tents during the World Cup, accolades in pointy hats with torches and wands, silver masks and black robes, and his father….No, he would not be discussing any of this with the do-gooder school nurse.

“It’s fine.” He denied, all too second-nature of him. “Just a bad dream, probably flashbacks of the fight is all.”

“Mister Malfoy, do you realize I had to stun you in order to release Miss Granger from your hold?” his eyes widened. “You’ve got quite a grip young man, but wrists are delicate. You need to exercise more caution.”

“I did what?” appalled at the accusation of hurting Hermione, he quickly wrapped the bath robe about himself and dashed out of the bathing room without her assistance. He had to see for himself. He felt the healer rush past him in a fast paced cadence, her wand blinking red and making a beeping sound.  
………………………..

“Mister Weasley!” a sharp voice tore through the otherwise quiet infirmary, startling the redhead away from the brunette who had never been so happy to hear that shrill tone. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Ah, ma’am, just a bit of Skele-gro or whatever you recommend for a busted tooth.” Ron replied smoothly as if ordering placing an order at The Three Broomsticks. “My breakfast this morning nearly removed it.”

“Right this way.” Poppy ordered, a hand pointing in the opposite direction of the Granger girl’s bed. “If you’ll excuse me, I have other patients.”

“Right right.” He answered smugly, nodding along, giving Draco a smarmy azure gaze. “Nice robes Malfoy.”

Draco growled.

Ron plopped himself on another bed, arms folded behind his head with an amused grin on his stupid freckled face as Draco darted his eyes back between the ginger idiot and the oddly stoic brunette who looked shaken. The Medi-Witch ran her wand over Hermione’s form and spoke in low, soft voice. He watched as Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat and whispered, her hands shaking. Something didn’t sit right with him; the Weasel must’ve said something to her. He was going to strangle that orange haired tosser if he caught him alone, Potter shouldn’t be the only one to have a go at him.

Poppy pulled the curtain and cast a silencing spell over Hermione’s bed. What was said was spoken in confidence, between healer and patient. Draco pulled his own curtain and started dressing in his uniform, there was no way in the seven hells that he staying in this blasted wing another day. He’d make himself better-whatever potion he had to choke down-and it seemed that the nurse felt the same. He was invigorated, feeling the blood pulse through him with purpose.

He had a reputation to uphold too, showing all those pricks who thought he was weak that you couldn’t keep a Malfoy down. Oh hell no, not after the pitiful excuse of an Easter holiday spent in bed with remnants of the crucio and cane beating reminding him every time he shifted position. Fuck that. And this was just as personal. Fucking Vincent and Greg. Yeah they were pretty stupid but he always thought they were loyal. Now they the lapdogs of any other pureblood out there with a bone to pick, for surely Weasley didn’t have the means to pay them to stick around, and Flint was already influential enough. 

Unintentionally, he noticed the silhouette of her form as the healer helped her remove the neck brace and hospital robe. Not that he didn’t have an already fair idea of her form, but knowing she was undressing right there, no cumbersome robe hiding her body, sent certain urges south of the border. He mentally slapped himself, shaking the thoughts from his mind. Hermione was a proper lady and he would treat her as such. He’d held her enough to know the slight dip of her waist just before her hips flared out-child bearing hips, he’d learned in biology lessons-and the curve of her spine as he lay beside her that one night in her room.

He’d already waged enough of a battle between his head and heart; he really didn’t want to have another skirmish involving his head and his body. Puberty was hell. Too many disturbing thoughts, weird urges, hunger spikes, clothing alterations, voice inflections, and that one pesky part of his body that had a mind of its own. It felt so wrong to think of her when his “little dragon” was alert, but it was even more difficult to ignore all thoughts of her when it was. What she didn’t know wouldn’t bring any harm. But now was not the time not place to relieve himself with those kinds of fantasies. 

With a sharp yank, his curtain went flying off to the side; Ron still lazily sprawled on a med-bed with his ankles crossed, eyes up at the ceiling, with a fucking smirk on his face. What had him in such high spirits if he was in the infirmary this early? The mere sight of this Weasel was enough to churn his stomach, especially when Madam Pomfrey pulled back Hermione’s curtain and gave her a subtle nod-a silent promise of some sort-before giving Draco what he translated to some kind of warning look and then headed off to treat Weasley’s poor fucking tooth.

“Hey…” he whispered to her. “You alright?”

She had her hands around her neck, massaging feeling back into the tissue after the snug hold of the brace. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she looked like she was about to peel her skin off.

“F-fine…” she muttered in a tone utterly lacking conviction.

He shot his eyes back over to their school nurse, watching as she shooed Weaselrunt out now that he’d been tended to, with the warning to not partake anything particularly hard or crunchy for his next meal if he didn’t want to permanently lose that tooth. He grit his teeth as he caught the ginger fuck actually winking at her before leaving. The gall of that git.

He picked up her old worn out satchel, seeing up close the wear and tear she’d put it through, little stitches and patches where book corners had rubbed it raw and thin, ink stains from who knows how many broken ink bottles, and fraying along the canvass hemlines. This simply would not do. This is something he expected the Weaselrunt to own, or maybe the lout’s little sister, but not the school’s biggest swot. He hoped his gift would be well-received, especially after the encounter with Neville’s Punching Bag.

Oh yes, he liked the new moniker. Hell, maybe he’d even make little badges of that and hand them out around school.

Dumping her belongings out on her bed certainly snapped her out of her little stupor, eyebrows rising to her hairline at the indignation and a protest on her lips when he whipped out from seemingly nowhere a package for her and pressed it into her hands. For a moment she was tempted to throw it back at him and start scooping up her stuff, but the label Scrivenshaft’s caught her attention.

“Trust me on this one.” He said, flashing the smile he reserved only for her.

She rolled her eyes and held back the urge to smile as she opened the bag and felt around, pulling on what felt like a handle and her eyes widened as the flash of periwinkle came out followed by an audible gasp at the sight of a brand new bookbag. Her hands roved it, feeling the soft dragon leather, double stitching, and the image of embroidered dandelion in the corner of the front flap. 

“Draco…”

“You needed it. You can’t argue about that, so don’t even think about trying to repay me or turn it in or-”

“Shut up.” She laughed, grabbing his hand and practically bouncing. “It’s beautiful. And perfect, yes. No complaints from me.”

“Excellent. It’s also been charmed with anti-staining spells should an inkwell break, and it’s fire-resistant. Should you ever have the misfortunate of being seated next to Finnigan.” He added with a charming wink. “And also has an extendable charm placed on this pocket.” He whispered.

“You’re so terrible.” She grinned. Minors weren’t allowed extendable charms except for when using the Hogsmeade bags or learning then in class. Too many shenanigans from eons ago put that in place. She immediately started grabbing her supplies and placing it inside, just fawning over the lined interior and sectioned pockets perfect for quill nubs and even a slotted slip to slide the wand into. And in her favorite color. With her favorite flower.

Somebody had done his homework.

“Alright remember, no heavy lifting, no tilting your head back or pitching forward, no flying, no dueling, and take your potions at lunch. Malfoy, do not over-exert yourself or you’ll be in here for the remainder of the week.”

“Yes Madam Pomfrey.”

“And pray tell, who do all these things belong to?” she asked at the stack of books and games.

“I don’t know but it was Anthony Goldstein who brought them in so it’s safe to assume that he knows.”

The healer nodded. “I’ll be sending word to him to re-collect. Generous as it was this is a place of healing, not playing!” she ranted as she went about collecting bedding and waving the two out of the medical wing.

When the two finally escaped the confines of the medical wing Draco tugged on her sleeve and pulled her in close for a hug, gingerly squeezing her. “It’s been two days and yet it feels more like two weeks.” He said as by way of explanation.

“I know what you mean. I think time moves slower in the Infirmary.”

“Now that I can believe.” He laughed with agreement, pulling back enough so he could see her face. “It would’ve been torture had I been in there alone.”

She looked at the floor, feeling her cheeks pinken. In all her time before this year she’d never blushed so much in her life. Just a few words out of his mouth and it had her almost combusting. For a moment she feared Pansy had told him of her blurted out confession, but if he knew he was playing oblivious.

“Hey, are you alright?” he tucked his thumb and forefinger under her chin. When her eyes met his he sensed her walls crumbling. “Madam Pomfrey…she told me…I hurt you didn’t I?” He reached for her right arm, his hand sliding down towards her wrist and lifted it up. There, peeking from the edge of her sleeve were soft reddish purple smudges from his fingers.

“You were dreaming Draco, it’s no big deal.” She excused, trying to slip from his hold.

“No big deal?” he echoed back to her. “Look what I did! In my sleep no less.” He held her wrist in place and ran his hand over the marks. “It’s still no excuse. I’ve never hurt you before.”

She was about to say something when she froze, her eyes fixed on a point over his shoulder, pupils shrinking as her breath escaped her.

“Hermione? Wha?” he spun around, faced with the redheaded bane of his existence. He was instantly on the defensive, turning his body around to block as much of Hermione from his view. “Weasley.” He hissed.

“What’d I tell ya Mione?” he smugly stated. “You’re no better off with him. Being closer to him only makes it easier for him to hurt you.”

“Eavesdropping wanker. Go mind your own and stay the hell away from my girlfriend.”

Ronald merely chuckled like Draco just told a simple muggle joke. “Girlfriend. Ha, you don’t ‘do’ girlfriends Malfoy. You have wives and mistresses. Having a girlfriend would sound all too common for someone like you.”

Hermione slid her arm around Draco, hand splayed across his chest. He brought his hand up to cover it without breaking eye contact to the blue-eyed menace. Something about the gesture bolstered him into speaking before thinking his next choice of words.

“Then stay away from my future wife Weasel.”

It certainly had shock value. No denying the surprise on Ronald’s face at that declaration as he his smug demeanor broke. Hermione clutched Draco’s shirt as she buried her face into his back to hide being taken off guard by the bold statement.

“You gonna let him talk about you like that Mione? Like you’re not allowed to speak for yourself? Eh, got you bending to his control already?”

Draco could feel the vibrations of her trembling against him. Something about the Weasel had gotten under her skin like nothing else. Nothing made her react like this. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “If Hermione deigns to speak with you then consider yourself blessed to be addressed by her. Until then, you’ll contend with me. And you’re not worth my time either.”

“Oh do forgive me Lord Malfoy.” Ron simpered in a mock curtsey and nasal pitch. He then straightened himself and gave them both an once-over. “Well if you’re putting time into that bird then you’ve got your work cut out for ya. She’s no princess.”

He jarred Draco’s shoulder as he sauntered past, casting a cool glance at the little brunette hiding behind her so-called white knight, letting his words linger like a poisonous gas in the air. They remained locked in their positions for several beats, waiting until they were certain he was gone. Her other hand had snuck around to also grab his shirt, and he placed his corresponding hand over it as well, feeling her cry and bury her face against his back, feeling powerless and confused over this newest upset. 

Weasley had never been so bold before, and the things he said held a sickening sense of double meaning. 

“Don’t let that ginger jackass get to you.” He said, pulling her hands free from his shirt. “He’s jealous. Always had been and always will be. You know this.” When he turned around to get a look at her he felt stabbed in the chest at how defeated and small she looked, as if she had shrunk herself just to hide better. 

Fire burned in him then, at this injustice. How dare something as low as a burrow dwelling weasel bring down a creature as magnificent as the Chimera? The urge to break that pathetic git’s face in had never ran so strong in him before. He pulled her into a proper hug and rested his cheek atop her head, gently petting her hair as she sniffled and huffed, trying to regain her composure. However much he wanted to drop everything and whisk her away to someplace private and get her to share what transpired between the two, but they were already late to breakfast, and needed to turn in their assignments from yesterday.

He never liked missing a day and having makeup work, falling behind in anything was not something a Malfoy did. And yet, it seemed to be his forte. Always behind Potter’s fame and Granger’s grades, close enough to snag a hold of their coattails but never strong enough to pull them out of the limelight. But now, he didn’t need to, now that he was a part of their golden triad of friendship. They were stronger together, and he would need Potter’s help with this one. For what was a triangle without two angles supporting the third?  
…………………………..

At the Slytherin table, he ushered Hermione into the welcoming embrace of the girls and Blaise, who took the task of undoing her single braid and splitting into two, then collectively wrapping them into buns on the top of her head to prevent any would-be pullers. While she was safe within the quartet as they reveled in the lushness of her straightened hair, he corralled Neville, Harry, and Theo to his side, whispering his concerns about the Weasel and mentioning how uncharacteristic her behavior was in the infirmary and the hall.

Obviously, there was only so much Theo could do but as his fellow housemates, the two Gryffindors could keep a better watch on him-especially when back in their dorm. An absolute dangerous and feral glint shone in the pair of lion’s eyes that both assured Draco he was doing the right thing and also unnerved him, wondering how many times that look had been reserved for him…

“Ok, so are we wanting Princess Leia or Sailor Moon buns?” Tracey asked, snapping his attention away from his little powwow.

Since no one else knew what the hell she was talking about, she guided Millicent and Blaise to put one bun on the top of her head and the other on the side and had her turn around for everyone to give their opinion. The Sailor Moon buns won out, and when the second was secured in place Draco felt his chest constrict at how absolutely adorable his little witch looked.

‘My future wife’ he had said. Looking at her, he knew there was none other he wanted.  
……………………………..

Pansy was in high spirits ever since opening her owl delivered letter from her father. He confessed to having reservations about the mousey Longbottom boy but after hearing about the fight in Hogsmeade from outside sources, and watching the memory she had provided, he was convinced that Neville was worthy enough to begin courting her properly and had provided a letter to the boy as well with no doubt a laundry list of rules he expected him to follow and expectations to meet.

When Neville nervously opened his unexpected letter and read it before handing it over he started sweating bullets she merely laughed. “Oh Nev, don’t take even half this list seriously, he’s taking the piss out of ya.” She chirped matter-of-factly. “I’m not the Parkinson Princess for nothing ya know, he’s got to make any would-be suitors tremble at his feet first. Can you believe that I’ve already had three marriage offers this year alone? And from families I’ve never even met! Luckily, Da’ wasn’t having me married off to some foreign family that only used Ireland for a holiday retreat, no sir. Mum wants me close enough to still have weekly or bi-weekly brunches, but that’s negotiable of course. I still believe I’d prefer France once we graduate.”

“Being the fashion capitol, it’s integral for your business.” He said.

“What bout you? Would you like France? Would your Gran?”

He contemplated long and hard. His grandmother in a lovely country cottage with a stream on a patch of land for her to cultivate her flowers and herbs. Of course she would love it. The only issue that would hold her back would be the fact that Alice and Frank still resided in St. Mungo’s and obtaining an international portkey for monthly visits could get costly. They would have to make sure they had a substantial budget set aside for that. “It would be an absolute delight for her, perhaps once I’ve started in my apprenticeship with a Master Herbologist.”

“You mean, more tutelage under Professor Sprout…” she said, in a tone that was testing whether or it was a question or statement.

“I never said It’d be with Madam Sprout.” He clarified, tucking the letter away. “I have only started to pursue the idea this year and have yet to submit any letters. There’s a possibility I could be accepted by Monsieur Toussaint of Beauxbatons.” He shrugged to downplay how much he’d love to work with the renowned French botanist. Of course, there was nothing wrong with working for his favorite professor here either. “There’s still three years to solidify a career path and I want to be absolutely certain I’ve chosen the right one come graduation.”

“But…” her breath caught on her tongue as her teeth dug into her bottom lip. “What if it’s out of country? Or here and I’m out of country?”

He slid a calloused palm over the top of her hand. “If I have any chance of a future with you, I must prove to be a provider. Another year of courtship while I start my career will only prove my willingness to do so. Wouldn’t that help earn a bit of your father’s respect for me?”

She bobbed her head a bit. “Well yeh, but…a year apart…visiting only on holidays or when the odd weekend rolls in sync…”

“Are you worried I’m going to suddenly fall in love with a botanical specimen and leave the wizarding world behind?” he chuckled at his own joke as she flushed. It wasn’t like him to be able to raise her ire but by Merlin he’d finally done it. “As if I could find a more enchanting rose…”

In that moment, Pansy Parkinson ceased being the coquettish and coy Slytherin she’d always been and became an ordinary teenage witch with an absolute gentleman of a boyfriend, blushing away the fears that their career paths could end up leading to a break in their relationship as her perfectly manicured fingertips entwined with his short-trimmed but often dirt lined ones and pressed together in a silent promise.

Growing up in the Wizarding world, most young witches and wizards new that fairytales were stories of pure fiction concocted by muggles trying to explain the strangeness of their different worlds, or were cautionary tales of eons past regarding old magics and dangerous times. While there were dragons to slay and fairies captured and princesses locked in towers, more often than not it was due to acts of war, feuds between rival families, and muggle encroachment into wizarding territory. They rarely ever ended happily with all problems reaching a fair conclusion. But in this moment, it felt like anything was possible, that this particular princess could indeed live happily with her pauper.  
……………………………..


	63. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco ruminates over several stressful separate matters-yet all in regards to the swotty brunette he adores-as Cho takes over the karate lesson and Millicent rushes in with disturbing news on Crookshanks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the lengthy break between updates but since the last chapter took an emotional toll on me that I was not expecting, I turned those dark memories and aggressions into a new fic, Malfoy's Mudblood and already wrote out 14 chapters as well as working on WTPOME* amidst the mad rush of the holiday season and fighting the ill-timed arrival of "aunt flo" so yeah, I wasn't in the right mindset to work on my cute teen romance fluff fic.
> 
> *With The Parents of my Enemy*

SATURDAY, May 13th, 1995

Before they knew it, it was Saturday. The past three days had passed in a blur. In those three days, Draco was positive Hermione was avoiding him, giving him absolutely no chance to catch her alone-even in the lab. Silently, he cursed himself for blurting out that statement to Weaselrunt, but he was certain she had understood it had been in the heat of the moment. They’d had much catching up to do in all their classes, having attended a study group hosted by Padma and Blaise-and since when was that even a thing?-and had put their noses to the grindstone to not only make up the previous assignment, but the ones scheduled for that day and what was due by the end of the week.

Then, in the lab, she had Neville by her side-almost like a shield to prevent him from mentioning it-and while the Gryffindor was invaluable on his knowledge of botany and had kept their project flowing flawlessly, he really wanted the kid to take a hike. But he couldn’t find it in himself to snap and growl like he usually would’ve, now that the wee lion had actually earned some of his respect and was courting his best girl. So, much like in the way of Harry being sucked into his proximity and somehow becoming a friend, Longbottom had begun to as well and it boggled him how that was even possible.

He’d made fun of Neville since day one; for losing his toad (but now ever so secretly glad that he did), for being pudgy, for being poor, for being meek, for losing his Remembrall, for the horrid looking sweater vests his grandmother undoubtedly knitted for him, and his buckteeth-which he’d now grown into? Out of? Either way, he’d filled out well and had shed baby fat for inches and a refined profile. While he still may wear those abhorrent sweaters and occasionally lose the amphibian familiar he appealed to Pansy in all the ways he personally did not. He treated her well and was surprisingly so knowledgeable about all kinds of flora that he had to tip his hat, secretly of course, couldn’t let anyone on know just how much he actually was starting to like the poor sod. 

Bugger all, how did it all happen so effortlessly?

It was like, almost as if those silly Gryffindors had just been waiting for him to come around and drop the act. Like they’d foreseen his inevitable entrance into their inner circle-or them into his-and just accepted it with minimal restraint. Hermione almost certainly had, even in her disbelief of Divinity. And with her, only the most loyal of lions followed.  
Broaching the subject of Divination brought his mind back around to the note Luna had left him in his sketchbook-to which he must’ve read four times consecutively before it truly sunk in and then he felt the blood drain from his face, his stomach twist in a knot, and bile rise in his throat.

Luna was her friend. She wouldn’t make this shit up. She was right that day in the courtyard. He had every reason to believe her. And she trusted him with her secret and this horrible vision.

But how to tell Hermione?

So on top of the worry he had for potentially scaring her with an unannounced, abrupt declaration of intended proposal he now had a vision of death and betrayal to content with.

And then he’d been pulled aside by his godfather and was handed the red Howler his father had sent, so that his son may endure the belittling note in private. Alone in his potion master’s office with a silencing ward in place, he tore open the red envelope.

“Son,” the oily voice of his father intoned in a most displeased fashion began, “It would appear you’ve taken your role as Gryffindor seducer rather well, to incite the rage of your friends to turn on you. Fear not, I have spoken with each of their fathers, filling them in on your secret plot so it shan’t happen again. I do advise you to be more prudent with such knowledge with them in the future to prevent such misunderstandings, after all, they truly believe you’d fallen for the little Mudblood wench and we certainly cannot have that when our Dark Lord returns. You will end your guilty pleasures with her come the end of this semester as she will no longer be of use to us. Keep the façade in play, the time is quickly approaching and we need Potter firmly believing you are now an ally. There may be a part for you to play come the day of the third trial. You are proving yourself to already being a loyal disciple in preparation of the Dark Lord’s return, bringing honor to the house of Malfoy.”

Draco couldn’t have been more ashamed to be associated with the House of Malfoy at that moment, and had to rein in his anger as well as his gag reflex. When he brought his hand up to swipe across his mouth the prevent a litany of obscenities from flying out he felt the cool brush of the signet ring on his hand and recoiled from it. The very weight of it felt like a ball and chain around his wrist from which he could not escape. At that moment, it was all he could do from yanking the thing off his finger and hurl it into the nearest boiling cauldron.

But it did explain the somewhat respectable side-eye glances and subtle nods he’d then received from Flint, Goyle and Crabbe, despite them having to endure their punishments and their fathers paying a hefty fine for their actions. At least he hoped that meant no further trouble from them as he had enough on his plate. The goons were still sitting with Weaselrunt, perhaps whispering what their fathers confided in them, but he long suspected that Ronald Blunderhead Weasley already believed that he was using Hermione for his own personal gain since the day he staked his claim to the witch.

There was no stopping that ginger’s train of thought. He still didn’t know what he’d said or done that had Hermione so rattled and that was just another helping of stress on his already overflowing plate. He needed to toss something off soon or the whole thing would slip from his fingers and shatter. Hoping that their usually scheduled karate lesson might be cancelled due to both of them still on Pomfrey’s light duty orders hadn’t amounted to much as the clever witch once again wrangled Cho Chang into tutoring them. He didn’t even have Theo’s usual protestation to back up and use against her as he was taking the unexpected assault somewhat personally and was willing to have the Ravenclaw instruct them on some close hand-to-hand combat moves should something like that be necessary. What was worse was when Cho had asked specifically how the attack happened and Hermione grabbed Harry and all too eagerly showed her just how he’d been struck from behind and then pummeled by Flint’s henchmen.

He heard Neville swear under his breath and knew there was no getting out of it.

Cho moved them-him more like-slowly and gingerly, like choreographing a dance so that way he didn’t fall harshly on the mat, regardless of the extra cushioning charm in place as she went over how to escape a hostage hold at wandpoint and attach a spell with their attack. At least he wasn’t the only one confused by that, until Hermione stepped up, bowed to Cho, then swept back into her defensive punch move he’d seen in Art class, and then struck at her, but her fist did not connect. Cho still flew back into the cushioned wall behind her with an unseen force.

“I did that to Flint. Twice.” She said.

“From what Susan said, you did that from all the way across the street too.” Cho supplied, eyes gleaming with the imagined display of power. “You must’ve really been channeling some inner rage to get it that far.”

Draco realized it was at that point he’d been carted away by their Herbology professor and missed this whole other duel, which Hermione had masterfully avoided the details of when pressed by inquisitive classmates of all years and in the newspaper club. It was enough Hogsmeade gossip; it didn’t need to make its way into print to further his humiliation. As far as half of the eye witness accounts went, he’d stood his ground fairly well and got a lick or two in. He didn’t need Skeeter sniffing about to embellish/expose anything. 

“In some ancient texts I’ve come across, it is known as Elemental Bending.” Cho happily explained. “Did you even realize what you were doing?”

Hermione shook her head. “No, I just wanted to punch the sonofabitch but he was too far, so when I pulled back…I dunno…I guess I just figured if I envisioned some wind…Like an extended Depulso…”

Even Cho looked impressed. “You literally just improvised an ancient fighting technique and pulled it off? Twice?”

Hermione looked around sheepishly. “Uhh…I guess?”

The older witch pinched the bridge of her nose. “Girl, we’re gonna talk later. As for now, I want the three of you to envision water and try summoning even the tiniest bit with your attack.” She pointed at a paper target on the wall.

“Why water?” Theo inquired.

“Because air is not always visible and is actually quite difficult to control, given how light it is. It and fire are the two hardest when starting out, hence water because you’ll feel its weight immediately and can morph it into a focal point far easier. And it’s easier to clean than fire attacks.” She added with a little chuckle.

Harry seemed to be taking the lessons seriously, not making moon eyes at their substitute instructor, perhaps feeling like Theo was and realizing that the blending of these skills would have come in handy six days prior. Hindsight was always a regretful bitch. Draco replayed what part of the fight would’ve turned the tables around had he more knowledge and practice in this art. He might’ve still taken the hit from behind but they wouldn’t have gotten away with much else. Bitter pill it was to realize that his enemies were even closer than he ever thought and that these little lessons might actually have to be put in use against them…maybe even his own father…

When it was his turn he took the stance and channeled his energy, forcing his mind to think of nothing but water. Cold, clear, flowing water, filling his palm, wrapping around his hand, sloshing between his fingers as he pulled on his magical core, incanting Aguamenti as if he had his wand in hand, imagining the cool wetness, imagining it hardening into ice. Ice was sharp. Ice would hurt. Ice could kill…

Fwup fwuup fwup!

All heads turned as sharp ice pellets pummeled the paper target, shredding it against the wall. 

His nostrils flared as he regained his footing, almost hunched over, beads of perspiration across his brow as he shook his hand to circulate the blood flow back into pink-tipped fingers.

“Whoa mate!” Theo gasped, clapping him on the back. “That was bloody brilliant!”

“How…How’d you…?” Harry gaped, having been barely able to gather more than just a few drops of water. “Ice?”

Cho looked at the target. Looked at Malfoy. Looked at Hermione. Then looked back at the target. Visible confusion marred her face. It had taken her months to even be able to control water, let alone conjure ice and keep it frozen….

“Well…done…” she applauded slowly, unsure if she should even be teaching him something like this…

He took in stride. Hell, if Hermione had been able to pull it off and not even realize what it was she was tapping into, then he could visualize an element he related to. He’d heard it often enough, he was cold as ice, had an iceberg for a heart, he had ice water in his veins. True, there had been walls of ice around him, closing him off from the warmth of her gravity, but like Icarus he flew too close and melted. But unlike the tragic character, he would not plummet to his death merely for reaching what had been perceived as unattainable. 

The rest of their lesson involved wand disarming moves, blocks of both the physical and magical persuasion and pressure points to target once taking a wrist in hand. It still didn’t sit well with him that he’d grabbed her wrist so hard he bruised her-sleeping or not. Yet another thing he hadn’t gotten to discuss with her. By now they should have faded into nothing but it did not erase the memory.

Merlin’s muttonchops he sure had a list to work through, unsure of which order to approach them in.

Neville leaned in over to speak in confidence as the guys and Cho continued to work through the drills, squaring off and then switching partners as well as roles. “Hey, what’s a good song to sing to a girl?”

Hermione nearly dropped the vial of collected Dragon’s Breath pollen. “Goodness Nev, there’s as many songs out there as there are stars in the sky, you’re going to have to be more specific than that!”

“Ok, I wanna play a song for Pansy. We were listening to your records on Sunday, dancing even. Heck, all of us were-”

“You guys had a party in my lab?” she retorted in mock surprise. Honestly, really, did he think she didn’t know despite the room being clean? “Oh go on, I’m listening.”

“Well, it seemed she really liked the one with the insect name…”

“The Beatles?”

“That’s the one.” He snapped his fingers. “They had some brilliant stuff.”

“They ought to, they’re one of the most successful rock bands of the past thirty years despite one of their member’s being murdered by a crazed fan.”

The blood drained from his face as his mouth gaped open. “What? Which one? Who did it?”

“John Lennon. And the guy doesn’t matter, he wanted fame for it. But yeah it happened in 1980 in New York. I was just a year old. But he and his mates have some of the most popular songs out there and I think if you want to serenade Pansy then your best bet is ‘I wanna hold your hand’ because it’s pretty sweet.”

He nodded along, totally on board with the offered selection. 

“I’ll let you have the room when we’re done so you can listen to it. Do you plan on just singing? Or are you playing an instrument?”

“Oh I play the ukulele.” He said as if it were a well-known fact. “My parents honeymooned in Hawaii, wanting that whole romantic getaway experience and bought one as a souvenir. My father used to play me lullabies with it, and as soon as I was of age, my gran let me have it and I took lessons.”

“Oh Neville that is the sweetest thing ever. Does Pansy know?”

He shook his head. “Figured I’d surprise her now that I actually have her father’s permission to officially court her. He’d skin me alive if he found out we’ve already kissed.”  
She gasped and playfully smacked his arm. “Oh you rake.” 

He snorted from holding in his chuckle. “Well I have you to thank for that.”

“I did nothing whatsoever.” She replied innocently, tapping the glass tube of pollen. “Damn there’s no reaction here either.” An exasperated sigh escaped her as she checked the box she’d made in a graph under NR. So far, she had negative or barely reactive results. Just what was the combination of these two plants capable of doing, if they did anything at all?

It frustrated her to think of all the time invested into the project only to find that it did absolute squat. But that was the price of blazing new territory, creating something entirely new. It was a gamble and sometimes they didn’t always pay off. Given the botanical bond that she and Draco both had to their plants gave her the hope that there was something special they were capable of doing.

Suddenly there was a pounding on the lab door, locked as it always was, but Neville had been given clearance to man the wards and was capable of flicking his wand and opening the door as Hermione still jotted down notes. With the throaty growl and spittle ridden hiss ringing in her ears, her quill was immediately down as she turned to see Millicent holding a very irate Crookshanks.

“Mills, what’s wrong?” She asked, wiping her hands on her Lisa Frank capris jeans.

“I dunno but he’s been darting around like mad and pawing at the walls.”

Her eyes popped wide and she was suddenly digging into her new periwinkle blue satchel and pulling out a thick folded paper bundle. “Mills, put him down.” She ordered, her tone setting off alarm bells. In the second it took for everyone to come to a stop, turn and look, and Harry to gasp out “What are y-” before Hermione was darting out of the room shouting “I solemnly swear I am up to no gooood!” with the map in one hand and a jar in the other.  
…………………………..

Cho stood there, mouth agape and hand outstretched, protests dying on her tongue as the trio quickly ambled after her, each grabbing their wands with nary a second to waste, leaving her flummoxed and frustrated without so much as a quickly tossed out “sorry!” in their hasty exit. She pulled her arm back into her personal space before tossing both in the air with a sigh.

“Forget it…” When she finished she met Neville’s eyes. “Are you staying?”

“Yes, I have clearance on the wards.” He answered. She nodded and picked up her wand, retransfiguring her gi back into casual clothing.

“Then I’m off. And you can tell them they owe me an explanation if they want me to continue helping with this little thing she’s doing.” It was obvious that the only reason the three of them even agreed to partake was in due to Hermione’s insistence. As to why, who knew, but it was still exciting being able to play a small role in it, having another who appreciated not only the martial art but the blending of it and magic together.

She shut the door behind her, leaving Millicent and Neville the room. For a moment, there was awkward silence between the two. It occurred to the pair that they’d not ever truly addressed each other, even on Sunday when the room was occupied with dancing teenagers; they’d not shared any words.

Granted yes, they knew of each other, but they’d never truly even been properly introduced. Neville, gentleman that he was, offered his hand. "Neville Longbottom.”

The Slytherin blinked for a second, wondering if she should accept the hand of the boy who was now courting her friend. But if he was serious about Pansy, then she’d have to get used to him being a permanent part of her life, so she might as well start getting used to the idea. Her hand fit firmly into his and reciprocated the shake.

“Millicent Bulstrode. And it’s Millie only to my friends.”

He arched a brow. “Hermione called you Mills….”

“Yes well, that will be broached later, Longbottom.” She insisted. In all actuality, she didn’t mind the shortened nickname. It had an edge to it that “Millie” certainly lacked. But the point seemed trivial in comparison to the importance of what was bothering Crookshanks.

“You watch over her cat?” he asked when he had his hand back, returning to the dish holding a small amount of Skele-gro with a few drops of boiled Snowdrop and Dragon’s Breath petals. No reaction.

She flipped back some her hair and nodded. “More like he spends time with my cat, but I watched over him when she was in the infirmary. You’re special to her though, being in charge of her wards, continuing her project-which I think you’ve done more work than Malfoy has to be honest-and what’s this about Pansy?”  
…………………………..

Being the only three in the room that knew what that phrase meant, they wasted no time in grabbing their wands and rushing out the door, just a beat behind in time but half a hall in length as she kicked up dust in her wake. Crookshanks was whizzing down the path, Hermione somehow managing to run with her nose buried in a map and an unbreakable glass jar tucked into her armpit, leaving the three scrambling to catch up with her.

They didn’t have to know what she chasing or which direction they were going, they would follow without question. It wasn’t just for the sake of satisfying curiosity, it was what friends did. What boyfriends did.

Eventually, their longer legs proved advantageous, catching up to her and peering over her shoulder to try to see the name of their quarry. Quite a feat while running. “Skeeter.” She panted out before any of them could ask or fall over whilst trying to see for themselves. Instantly, they were on alert, eyes on the cat as he led the way. “Find her Crooksy!” Hermione called after him.

They passed other classmates milling about, portraits shouting about no running in the halls, two ghosts in a heated debate over most scares accumulated for the year, and had to dodge one owl swooping in low to deliver a letter. All the while following the orange fluff on fast feet for a feline his size.

In the band of sunlight they ran through, they finally saw it; the shiny green gleam of the shell as the insect flew up in height, just as they had recalled in a few of their classes in the past couple weeks, just as Hermione described when she came to her conclusion. And given how desperately the Kneazle-feline was pursuing the little flying emerald, they were certain it was more than just an ordinary beetle.

And Hermione would not be chasing after an ordinary beetle.  
…………………………

Talk of the ukulele led to her talent with the harpsichord which then led to Tracey’s skill at singing and before he knew it Millicent had sent a note off to her friend and quickly both girls had taken to Hermione’s record player and placed the vinyl on, with Tracey noting out a slower tempo that Millicent started keying before Neville was bobbing his head along as Tracey sang it out while holding the lyric sheet.

She pulled out a sheet of parchment and began jotting down the notes even before bothering to inquire if he could read music, so caught up in the flow of inspiration. When she finished she flipped it up to him, watching his eyes as he counted the beats in between.

“You’ve slowed to eighty beats per minute.” He said.

“Should be easy to strum on that little guitar of yours while you’re singing it.”

“I didn’t know you were so versed in music…” he confessed sheepishly.

“Well, however much I loving showing my skills it’s a common Slytherin trait to not reveal anything that could be used against you.”

His brows furrowed. “How would being able to write music or have such a clear singing voice be used against you?” He was utterly bewildered the Slytherin students always held themselves behind walls of perceived judgement when in fact the opposite was true. Most people mistook the serpents as being lazy or stuck up for not joining in most electives or clubs when in fact they were protecting their fragile self-esteems. It was actually kind of sad.

“Well, I could ask the same as you Longbottom, why aren’t you in any music electives?”

Well she did have a point. He was teased often enough for classes he had no choice to take, terrified of the disapproving glare peering down from the hooked nose of one Professor Severus Snape. The man sent chills down his spine, he didn’t need that from the usually jolly Professors Flitwick or Haberkorn if he somehow messed up during a performance or group project. He’d never live down the embarrassment.

“But you two…you’re talented…” he protested.

Tracey shrugged as if he’d merely stated the weather conditions. “Look, I’m helping ya because Pansy’s soft for ya and she’s our friend, and you’re not a bad bloke either.” She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one foot. “It’s nice seeing a guy go the extra mile than one who just wants a quick snog and then ignores ya…”

Neville shifted his stance, feeling uncomfortable with Tracey’s moment of vulnerability. He honestly knew he was different from most of the boys his age simply because he didn’t have a male figure of authority in his life, nor brothers to reflect any aggression with. Having a widowed grandmother raise him, with a firm but gentle hand made him more appreciative of the fairer sex when it was taken as a sign of weakness. A sissy. But girls wanted a guy that was attentive when they spoke, opened doors and offered hands and addressed them in a dignified manner, so how was it wrong to be raised accordingly?

“Well, hopefully Goldstein will prove to not be that kind of guy.” He responded optimistically for her sake. From what he could tell, Hermione was hitting it off fantastically with these two-if the friendship bracelets were any indicator.

“Thank you Longbottom, now summon that ukulele of yours so we can get practicing on this.” She ordered with a little quirk of her lips trying not to break into a full on smile. Pansy was one lucky girl indeed.  
………………………………..

They were in an empty classroom, shooting spells and warding the room against any escape attempts, Hermione with the jar in her hands following after Crookshanks, Theo holding the map and shouting directions when they lost sight of the insect, and Harry and Draco shooting stunners until a well-aimed Arresto Momentum froze the beetle in mid-air, and then the ginger beast leapt up and caught it like it was a tossed toy.

Hermione swooped in on her knees, placing the jar opening right under Crook’s mouth, allowing him a moment to nibble the prickly Coleopteraen treat before he deposited in the glass prison. Without a second’s delay, she screwed the lid on tight and then held up the jar like she’d won the House Cup for the guys to see.

“We caught her!” she happily cried, bouncing on the balls of her feet as they all came up to marvel at the sight.

“No doubt about it, the map clearly says Skeeter.” Theo declared, holding it up. “You’ve been outed Rita. We know what you are and despite your disparaging articles regarding Harry and Hermione, you can’t contest the word and influence of the names Malfoy and Nott.”

“You’re unregistered Skeeter, and that’s a big no-no.” Draco tsked, waving a finger in front of the jar.

“I say we go straight to the Newspaper Club right now and have them print up a special expose right here and now.” Harry grinned, his vermillion eyes gleaming with delight. “Hell, Luna’s old man owns The Quibbler; we have him make it their front page!”

“Or we could just Cruico this little cockroach until she swears she’ll never print a false word ever again.” Hermione stated darkly, silencing the three boys in one fell swoop. Her eyes stared straight through the cylindrical prison at the occupant within, her neck bent at an odd angle so she could see the beetle’s face. “You’re not human right now…and mercy is only a human concept…I could let Crookshanks eat you, step on you….you’re awfully tiny Skeeter, not much in your repertoire to defend yourself with…”

That oddly calm voice sent chills down their spines as they glanced warily at each other. Surely she was bluffing. She had to be bluffing.

“You know, Muggles have strange customs Skeeter.” She continued, her eyes taken on a golden hue. “Some include the art trend of pinning insects to a board and framing it, to hang up in their office as if it gives them some intellectual standing among their colleagues. And the prettier, the better.”

Crookshanks licked his chops and flicked his tail.

“You’re a lovely shade of green Skeeter, has anyone ever told you that? No? Oh that’s right, because you’re unregistered…..”

“Hermione?” Harry whispered.

“Don’t worry Skeeter.” Hermione tapped the glass with the tip of her fingernail. “I won’t do anything with witnesses around.”

Theo nearly dropped the map.

Draco regarded her curiously. Something about her demeanor was off. Something that hinted at danger, like the calm before a storm. While everything outwardly exuded calm and even polite dictation, underneath he knew a tempest raged for revenge. He’d felt it before, he knew it as well as he knew of Theo’s heavy slaps of paint to the canvass meant he was fighting his own inner demons, just like he knew when Potter was about to burst and fled the Great Hall. All year, with little pricks, the wall containing the inner beast had systematically weakened and now more than the claws were out, she was rearing her ugly head and bearing her fangs with a promise to use them.

But Skeeter also needed to be reminded of just who she had trifled with, just how many lives she had tossed on their ears with carelessly printed thoughts.

“Down in the Slytherin dungeons, no one can hear you scream.” He said, placing his hand over the lid. “We’ll find a nice little dark corner where she’ll be out of the way. No one would dare bother a little bug in a jar down there.”

“And to make sure she doesn’t get lonely, we’ll see that she has a guard.” She glanced down at the feline at her feet. “Isn’t that right Crooksy? You’ll keep your eye on her for us, won’t you?”

In response, he pressed his forehead to her leg and rubbed, a throaty purr reverberating through the whole room.

“Sounds like ‘mischief managed’ to me.” Theodore said, aiming the phrase at the map, causing it to fold back up and returning to its innocuous form of blank parchment.

“Let’s get our guest prepared, shall we?” Draco offered his arm to Hermione to take, as if he were escorting her to the yule ball. She looped her arm through his and smiled, returning to normal in a flash, just holding a jar in one hand and walking in time with her boyfriend on the other.  
………………………..

He had managed to shoo away the guys silently as Hermione focused on undoing her wards and holding the jar, then slipped right after her and shut the door before any protests could be voiced as she set the glass prison on her desk. She pulled out a drawer to tuck the map into since they’d headed straight to her room and left her satchel in the lab.

“I’m letting Neville use the room for the time being.” She said suddenly, not yet meeting his eyes. “He wants to learn a song to play for Pansy.”

“He what?” Draco’s reaction was pure shock, momentarily distracting him from his reason for barging in and getting her alone. “Wow…well that’s great. I wish him the best.” He quickly added before reaching for her hand. “Hermione…”

The beetle flittered her wings, reminded him they now had an audience. He pulled out his wand an aimed it at the jar, casting Obscuro and Muffliato to prevent Skeeter from eavesdropping and prying.

“You’ve been avoiding me…I screwed up didn’t I?”

She immediately shook her head. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong…It’s just…well, when you said that thing to Ron-” He could help but wince at the chosen word ‘thing’ to describe calling her his intended. “I mean I knew it was just in response to him and what he insinuated but it got me thinking…and I just needed to reassure myself…but it’s not something to say so casually…and I wonder…”

“Oh god, you’re breaking up with me?” his face fell with that conclusion, dropping her hand and bracing it to his chest as he started fighting for air.

“No Draco, that’s not it at all!” she rushed to assure him with her hands smoothing over his own, one carding through his hair. “Calm down, please…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it sound like that.” She led him over to her bed and sat with him, keeping one hand firmly held. “But it did kind of scare me.”

His head immediately shot up, mouth primed and ready to explain himself but she continued.

“The whole situation scared me. Caught between two pureblood wizards in a tumultuous triangle, each staking their claim on me….and me…just some ordinary witch of no consequence… I froze.”

“You’re not ordinary.” He insisted. “Nor are you of little consequence because if you were you would’ve never caught my eye then, and you’d be happily delusional with Weaselrunt and we’d be nothing more than class rivals if that. You are exceptional Hermione, and it’s only too late that he now sees that because you’re with someone better suited for you. You and him…you’ve hardly even been on the same paragraph, let alone the same page while you and I, we’re reading on a whole other level.”

She smiled at the literary metaphor. 

“Is that what he did, while I was in the bath?” he searched her eyes, finding apprehension. “Please, please don’t shut me out on this. I need to know what he’s said and done, and not just for the sake of wizarding courtship. Hermione, you were scared. You don’t scare.” He brought his hand up to her cheek. “What could he have possibly done when you’ve proven time and time again you can best him?”

Oh how those lips trembled. Teethed and tore at her bottom lip. Pulled in and twisted with contemplation. He wanted to soothe his thumb over them with the promise of a kiss to follow.

“I don’t know…I could just be imagining it…” she tried dismissing but he wouldn’t let her go. “It’s stupid…really Draco…maybe I have been too emotional…”

“Stop.” He ordered.

She held her breath. 

“I don’t want to have to use Legilimency just to have the truth. I need you to trust me that I’m not going to judge anything until I’ve learned it all and come to a conclusion of my own. But I know you are not an irrational emotional mess prone to flights of fancy. And it kills me that you think you’re strong enough to handle every problem thrown at you when all it’s made you do is pull away from me. You think I haven’t noticed? The study group? Having Longbottom wedged in between us in the lab? Not cancelling the karate lesson despite us not being cleared of light duty yet? You’ve done everything possible to not be alone with me. And it hurts. So whatever he did and said I need to know because it’s affecting me too.”

She sniffed back the threat of tears. “I’m sorry…I didn’t think you’d notice if we remained busy.”

“Hermione Jean Granger, all I want is time alone with you.” He confessed, realizing that if he didn’t say it now he might not ever. “I’m selfish. Ever since that first day at the pond, just you and I talking, sharing a meal…convincing you to help me form a Patronus…finally being allowed to touch you…It’s all I’ve wanted. And it’s all I want to do. Even when we’re with our friends and having fun…I just want to be with you. I even shooed them away and shut them out just so I could have this moment. Because I need it….I need you.”

Despite the bright flush in his cheeks, he kept his eyes locked onto hers. “I may have said too much….but that’s what you do to me. And if it scares you then tell me. Tell me so I can try to keep it contained, before I blurt out something like that again. But I won’t step down when it comes to another wizard. It’s only if you tell me you’re through, then I’ll go.”

“I wrote to my parents.” She blurted out, still trying to calm her fluttering heart. “I told them…and they…they want to meet you and see for themselves if you really have turned yourself around.”

His brows jumped for joy, reading between the lines of what could already mean their approval. 

“So I need to know…Draco…did you mean that?”

Ever since the words flew from his mouth he meant it. He dreamed about it. Even imagined Weaselrunt crying to his older brothers about how now a Malfoy made off with an intended Weasley bride, the tables turning after so many generations since the days Cedrella Black and Septimus Weasley. 

“I could tell you…or I could show you…” he grinned, biting his bottom lip as his eyes darted across her in a lascivious manner. “But only if you promise to tell answer me truthfully in return.”

Tit for tat.

She nodded in agreement; it was only fair after all. He wanted answers as desperately as she wanted to know if his intentions ran that deep, that she wasn’t the only one falling hard and fast and quite possibly set on a path of heartache. He may have been the first one to develop the attraction, but was it the same for boys as it was for girls?

The thought stopped abruptly when his hand slid to hold her neck, cradling the nape against his fingers while his thumb flicked at her earlobe as he leaned into her, a whisping feather light kiss across her lips, as gentle a touch there had ever been. For a second it held her in thrall, frozen as she was taken back by the gesture, even more so when he pulled back to dive right into her eyes, preening so self-assuredly that he made her lose her senses with just a touch.

“I’ve gone a whole week without those lips on mine, and that in itself is a crime against humanity.” He said in mock-seriousness. “How dare you tease me with those lush little things?” he drew a fingertip across the top one, following the tips of her cupid’s bow. “They’re delicious by the way. What is this flavor?”

She blinked a few times, trying to recall the name on the green tube of Lip Smacker lip balm as she dressed that morning, selecting a pair of denim capris with Lisa Frank patches and a purple camouflage shirt, adding her stretchy tattoo choker for a bit of flourish. “Oh…it’s kiwi.”

“I think I need another taste.” He said, planting his lips on hers with more force this time, smearing her lip balm across his own in the transfer. She couldn’t help but giggle as he let out a muffled moan, delving into the scrumptious flavor as if it were ambrosia. She had to remind herself that ordinary things like Lip Smacker and Juicy Fruit gum and Head & Shoulders were exotic to him while the hair straightening potion Blaise procured for her was exceptional but normal in their world. It had lasted through the week as promised, only now shortening as the curls were returning, thankfully no longer at the length to where she worried about sitting on it.

“What is this ungodly thing?” he demanded, tugging at the woven plastic around her neck. 

“It’s called a tattoo choker.” She answered. “They come in every color.”

“It’s in the way.” He stated indignantly, irritated that he could find no clasp. “How do you get it off?”

“It stretches silly.”

“Over your hair?” his eyes bugged, causing her to smack his arm. He laughed and pulled at the opposite ends and sure enough, the choker expanded until he could bring it up and over her face but left it across her forehead. “That’s good enough.” He affirmed, pushing her onto her back and looming over her prone form with that predatory gleam she’d come to recognize.

“I believe someone wanted a demonstration of some feelings?” he smirked at her. “Do you trust me?”

Eyes of ember implored him. She wanted to know. Curiosity was her great weakness. But her nod did not sway him.

“Say it. Tell me. Give me permission.”

“What are you going to do?” she whispered although there was no need.

“That’s where the trust part comes in…you just have to see. And if you’re uncomfortable, tell me and I will stop. I assure you…I will not do anything inappropriate.”

She took in a breath. “Ok. Yes Draco. S-show me.”

“That’s my girl.” He leaned down, claiming her lips as her hands met up in handfuls of hair, pulling him into her like the sun dragging in it satellites. Not that he ever wanted to escape the enveloping gravity, but he didn’t linger on her mouth as long as he normally would’ve, starting to trail down her neck, familiar territory but one of his favorites for the way she would curl and arch. A few kisses and nibbles, for he could not resist the feel of her skin between his teeth, knowing she wanted that primal marking-on her and by her-but he was crossing into unknown territory along her clavicle, pushing her shirt’s collar aside to expose her shoulder, then pulling it lower as he begun trailing the smooth plane of her breastbone.

When the collar could stretch no further, he went no further, letting it go only to drop his hand on her hip and begin pushing her shirt up, exposing her abdomen. A hand went up, braced against his chest in a silent plea, a warning to which he reassured with another kiss to her lips, interlocking his fingers with hers and pressing it back against the mattress while the other one slowly snaked up, now exposing her belly button.

He pulled back only enough to continue raining kisses down the valley between her breasts and sternum, until he met where her bunched up shirt ended, lips pressed the soft skin of her stomach in tentative exploration. She sucked in her gut and he watched as the muscles quivered and wiggled as she tried not to laugh because it tickled. But he was not deterred by gelatinous abdominal undulations and continued brushing his lips around her belly button, feeling her body flutter as she wrestled with the flight-or-fight reflex it brought.

He slid his fingertips across when he found a little constellation of freckles, relishing in the softest skin he’d yet touched, always hidden by clothing. “I was an idiot for ever making you feel unpretty.” He felt her fingers clinch between his own as she sucked in another breath. “And now I get to see parts of you no one else has.” Her being in a dorm with three other girls didn’t count and she knew it. Clearly, this was in the mindset of the male variety. As if she’d be going and showing her body to any boys in the first place!

Except him.

Unaware that any place on the human body could literally be kissed other than the obvious, her mind was awhirl with new sensations and desires as she suddenly wanted to explore further and shrink away in embarrassment for baring herself to him in this new way. Had he done this before? She couldn’t imagine him doing this with Pansy…not when he said she was like a sister to him. 

“Stop.” She panted; face red with the embarrassing thoughts and feelings creeping in. True to his word, he pulled back, and was starting to slip his hand from hers when she clenched it tightly. “Wait…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I told you I would-”

She launched upright and pulled him into herself, breaking their clasped hands so she could hold onto him. He had to brace a knee between her thighs and one hand went towards her footboard else he fall on top of her.

“Ron…he….he s-said that it was my fault…that being closer to you only puts me in greater danger, that if I apologize and come back to Gryffindor all will be forgiven…and he-he….He said he’d dump Lavender because we’re meant to be together…” she rambled on, burying her face in his shirt to muffle the cries and hiccups, shaking as she told him how he had smiled at her and touched her hair, acting like everything was just fine and how every word sent chills down her spine as he tried complimenting her hospital robes in some silly attempt to get in her good graces. All the while Draco held her, smoothing a hand down her hair, feeling her whole body shake as she shared her fears, trusting him to be someone who could do something about it.

No, she wasn’t prone to reckless emotion and exaggeration. Hearing the way Weasley approached her sent goosebumps along his skin. The manner in which he spoke, that high-handed reprimand wrapped around delicately placed morsels of concern, all the while placing the blame upon her shoulders, making the fault lie on her actions-not his own-were all signs he’d seen time and time again from his own father. He didn’t think Weasley had it in him to be so cold, but the same could be said for his turnaround and relationship with Hermione. 

“Hermione, I won’t let him near you.” He promised, trying to maintain a semblance of calm despite the blood boiling in his veins, itching for a fight. Oh to be able to punch that little ginger weasel’s face in… “Right now it’s just words. We can’t do anything when there’s been no true threat, but I’ll have Potter and Longbottom keep tabs on him. Unfortunately that cow won’t believe anyone who’d tell her otherwise so that’s a lost cause on her part.”

He tilted her head back, fingers tucked under her chin so she couldn’t hide away. “I’ll protect you, I swear it. You won’t go anywhere without someone or myself so he can’t try to get you alone again. From the way it sounds, he’s got some misconceived notion of this entire thing being a farce just to slight him, like it’s all a game. Right now he’s harmless but closer to the end of term he’ll start to see he’s playing a losing game and then he might lash out.”

~ Rivers of tears and blood flow as the Chimera is cornered ~

The words struck a heavy chord along his spine. He knew he should tell her, just spill out the whole little vision Luna had, but that would merely give her cause to shrink in further in fear or dismiss it as rubbish and then grow angry with him for insisting that the Divination hokey was legitimate. Right now he wanted her assured that he could handle at least one thing on his own, just between him and Weasley like it should’ve been long ago.

He couldn’t spring this up on her now that he’d finally gotten her to open up after three days of avoidance and silence. Not now. Not when he hadn’t yet deciphered all the clues. He knew though, without a doubt, that the “grim future” pertained to the planned resurrection of the dark lord, and that the “day of birth” more than likely was his upcoming birthday. Only prophecy talk was not as simple as plain speaking. Death could mean any number of things such as sleep, imprisonment (death of freedom), defeat, social death (publically shamed and reviled)….It was simply too much to be certain. 

He still wasn’t sure if he should even be aware of something silver and blue eyes as it appeared nothing much had come from it.

But this one was far more particular; lions and serpents, Chimera, betrayal and birthdays….Something dark lay in wait…He didn’t like all this raw speculation, it was no worse than Skeeter printing off her mad flight’s and expecting everyone to take it as fact. All he had was conjecture. What if he was the betrayer? Going against his father and all this preparation for Voldemort to return? Who were the lion and serpent in question? Pansy and Longbottom or Theo and Potter? Or was it him and Hermione? Or did it just mean a clash between the rival houses? What if it meant him fighting against Weasley?

He shook his head, banishing the tunnel he had easily slipped into. Hence why it he kept it to himself, Hermione would go mad branching out every possible aspect and then drag all parties concerned…make a big production out of it. And Luna, she’d said so herself that the visions were murky because the future was constantly changing, the day by day decisions people made causing waves through the fabric of the Tapestry of Fate, so there was in all sense, a chance to avoid some of these from happening. But only if he made the right decision. And thus therein lay another problem, because while he may decide to veer left, someone else would go right and the future event could still happen.  
Fucking visions….He didn’t envy Luna one bit. In fact he wondered how she slept at night knowing she could very predict the death of friends and family, foresee tragedies that could’ve been avoided had there been ample warning? Or warned someone of the dangers ahead and they still strove onto the path? There was no straight answer when it came to this stuff, no Arithmancy formula that made sense every time, no potion portions that gave perfect results, no swish and flick that worked like a…charm.

“I mean it Hermione. As long as you’ll have me, I’m yours. And as yours, you are mine, and I will protect what is mine.”  
…………………………..


	64. Duplicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Malfoy matriarch receives a letter from her son, in dire need of a ring. Is it just for show? Nonetheless it presents an opportunity to meet a secret confidant of hers and discuss their future together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay with the updates. I did have an amazing pace-up until the Holdiays, lol-but now I'm going to have to be realistic and I cannot promise a chapter every three days. Maybe not even once a week but I'm sure I can get another one out in roughly ten days to 2 weeks. I have three family birthdays in rapid succession and I do believe the school will allow the children to return and if that's the case then I'll need a proper bedtime again, lol.  
> Thank you everyone who comments and leaves kudos and contacts me on other social sites telling me they enjoy this story and are hanging on every word. Trust me, I'm hanging on as well and I'm writing it! I still cannot give a number as to how many chapters there will be but we are closing in on that finish line.

Sunday, May 14th, 1995

It wasn’t every day that a letter was addressed to both Lucius and Narcissa from their son, as each parent tended to focus on certain conversational subjects and very rarely crossed over into the other’s territory where they were concerned.

This particular Sunday though, Ulysses flew to the window with precision, perching himself on the back of the empty chair between the couple and extended his foot out in the middle of them, aiming for neither, inviting either to reach first. Years of proper etiquette and finishing school before her years at Hogwarts had taught and trained Narcissa to only ever take an offered missive if it was held purposely in front of her and none other. Even married, if the envelope was not intended for her, it was only by his blessing that she would be allowed to handle such things.

He arched a curious eyebrow. “Our son writes to the both of us? Don’t tell me he’s run that low on parchment.” He scoffed, waving his hand in order to signify that Narcissa that she could have the honors.

The owl extended his talons toward the lady of the house, thus also imploring her for a treat. She selected a little sausage link and pierced it with a fork, holding it out to him ever so politely. Lucius tapped his fingers along his thigh at this tedious need to stand on ceremony. It was just a fucking bird. Throw it a treat and be done with it.

“Good boy Ulysses.” She cooed to him, tracing a finger along his feathered tuffs and under his chin. He was quite the affection fella once you got past his imposing figure and soul-piercing stare. “Wait here.” She instructed should they need to respond quickly. She flicked the wax seal off with the butter knife-an atrocity if her mother ever found out!-and extracted the letter. Her eyes grew wide before she could contain herself emotionally, unprepared for the request of her dragon.

“Oh this better be good.” Lucius quipped, setting down the newspaper and angling his head to stare down his nose. “Please Cissa; do share with the rest of the class.”

Lucius Malfoy rarely ever cracked jokes. And when it happened, it was not for entertainment. It meant he was annoyed at the very least. The very least.

“It reads: It would appear that the youngest Weasley means to repeat history by trying to take that which is mine. He has made aggressive attempts to be alone with Granger in hopes to win her over. In doing so, he forced my hand in a verbal confrontation, and mentions of her being my intended were uttered in the heat of the moment. As a Malfoy I am bound by my word and now beseech you to assist in this endeavor before the Weasel can dig up some rusty heirloom and make a scene.

I realize the scandal this will cause but Uncle Snape has been superb in quelling school rumors. Besides, as you said Father, it won’t matter come the end of term. But if I have a ring on her finger then there will be no doubt from Potter that I am trustworthy and will be able to assist in any way that I can. I will prove that I am ready to take the mantle as a Death Eater should it ever be put in question.”

“Godric be damned.” Lucius muttered under his breath, beginning to slide the Malfoy signet ring off his finger. Unlike the one Draco wore, it had special magic tied to it that signified it was the one and only, the true ring of the Head of the household. “I’m expecting Pettigrew for another progress report so I’ll leave this in your capable hands. Certainly dedicated to his role…”

With the ring in her possession she would have full access to the Malfoy/Black vault. A right that had been lost to her since she accepted the marriage contract written up by her parents, signed and sealed, promised to one Lucius Abraxas Malfoy upon said date and time after graduating Hogwarts and having her season in society. As she was joining his family, her dowry and personal vault was now in joint, his as well should dire straits ever lead him to seek funds from it. Luckily, they were still quite well off on just Britain based Malfoy money and he’d never had the need to dig into it. Though she on several occasions had required his permission to it, always claiming it was for a gift. Gifts for him, gifts for friends, gifts to those who needed a little persuasion when it came a ruling in the Wizengamot….whatever was necessary. 

As fastidious as he was, practical and detailed-orientated, he would wave a hand and barely nod whenever his dear flower requested a shopping excursion with her own Black funds. It was unnecessary for him to be burdened with receipts a mile long and a guest list to match, knowing how every single knut was spent. He had enough of that with the ledgers of his own, from the investments and companies attached to his name. He was a business man through and through but the trivial shopping excursions of women bored him faster than a lecture from the late Professor Bins.

“Get yourself a little something while you’re out.” He added, his way of telling her in no uncertain terms that she need not hurry home, for he would be embroiled in Death Eater business and it was none of her concern. She gave a demure nod-ever the lady-and gathered her skirts as she stood.

“Would you like me to respond to his letter as well?” came her ever so innocently sounding request.

Lucius pulled his pocket watch out and glanced at the time. “Might as well. Pettigrew may not have the penchant for punctuality but I do.”

“Of course you do dearest.” She simpered platonically, swishing her dress as she crossed the room and entered a parlor with a writing desk, taking her seat and quickly dipping a quill into the ink pot. The letter to her son was brief but assured him that he’d have the requested item by evening. A second letter was just as quickly penned, signifying a chance meeting could happen and to be ready within the hour with a destination designated before folding it up and tucking it within the letter to Draco. Once he received it he’d send Ulysses off to deliver the note to its intended recipient. When she returned to the dining room Lucius was already angrily tapping his fingers along the table’s surface, sucking against his teeth in irritability, chiding the Animagus’s tardiness.

Every minute that ticked by would just further infuriate her husband.

She hastily made her way upstairs, changed into a more suited outfit for traipsing through the business district and threw Floo powder into the hearth and made her exit before his ire could be turned onto her.

………………………….

The morning was off to a swell start if he had to say so. After finally breaking past her defensives and getting to the root of her troubles, Draco felt a surge of primal protective energy and remained with her for the rest of Saturday evening, up until curfew and parted with a kiss to her hand and a silent promise to himself that he was going to put a ring on that fourth finger before the end of their school term.

After she broke down and confessed what the Weasel had done and said he refrained from doing any other flirtatious act other than laying beside her on her bed and holding her, placing occasional kisses to her cheek, forehead, and knuckles. He let her just curl up against him and bask in his warmth and comfort like that one time he stayed the whole night. He didn’t dare push his luck in suggesting doing that again, knowing damn well he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself. It was hard, fighting against himself and his own urges but if he was ever going to prove himself a worthy wizard then he would lock himself in the detention dungeons if that’s what it took.

He would protect her, even from himself. It was the gentlemanly way.

But he held nothing back when he offered his arm to her that morning and escorted her into the Great Hall, holding her hand as she descended into her seat and pulling out a flower for her-which she blushingly took-and cast a cold glare in Weasley’s direction, making sure the git knew that he was fooling himself into thinking that Hermione would ever willingly go back to him. Anyone with eyes could see it clearly that Hermione Granger was Draco Malfoy’s witch. The only thing that remained in doubt was his intentions…  
Which he aimed to rectify.

Madame Pomfrey finally relinquished her ‘light duty’ orders but warned him to not rush headlong into the fray as if she suspected him of plotting some ambush for the ginger idiot the moment her back was turned. The woman had seen enough teenaged love triangles to last a century and knew how boys thought. Which was in fact, quite little in the grand scheme of things. It would not surprise her in the slightest if either the young Weasley boy or little lord Malfoy returned to the infirmary with some evidence of a “scuffle” within the next day or so.

While Hermione was speaking with Ginny and Luna he pulled Potter and Longbottom aside and finally broke the truth to them, repeating verbatim what she had told him. He didn’t consider it a violation of trust if he was entrusting friends of her own into the matter, ones who could better keep tabs and be aware of any suspicious activity on his part. They’d watch over her whenever one of the six Slytherins couldn’t. After all, they shared a dorm with the prat.

“I can’t believe he said that.” Neville said, shaking his head. Then again, it was hard to believe the usually friendly and joking ginger turning on him and insulting not only his girlfriend but dragging his unfortunate parents through the mud.

Harry remained oddly silent, keeping whatever opinions he had to himself, just giving a committed grunt with a wicked side-eye to the aforementioned friend of his now turned enemy. Having never been allowed to make friends before coming to the enchanted school, it was hard to finally admit the loss of the first one he’d made.

“You alright mate?” Draco inquired at his unusual stoniness. 

He just gave a minimal shake of his head and bit his bottom lip before excusing himself, leaving the two to share a shrugged exchange between themselves.

“It’s been hard on him.” Neville stated. “He probably wouldn’t admit to it, nor like me saying so but I really think he’s heartbroken. He and Ron were tight.”

Draco ran his fingers through his hair and then shoved the hand in his pocket. “I think this is the year for all pretenses to come to an end.”

Neville tilted his head just a tad, then for the honest to Merlin’s truth smirked. “Says the guy who started the trend.”

…………………………..

Judging by the rosy hue in her cheeks and the alleviated mood she was in, Luna surmised that Draco had yet to mention her vision to her. The young Ravenclaw knew her word was taken with a grain of salt by most, and that she only had Malfoy’s ear because the things she had to say in the courtyard had proven instantaneous-unlike most visions-so he knew she wasn’t taking the piss. Still, she trusted that the boy was going to keep his word and find the right time and place to discuss it with her at length. She refrained from bringing it up, as did Ginny for she did not want to engage in the possibilities that her brother might be involved with any of it.

She admired the friendship bracelet worn by her and the other select girls Hermione had bequeathed, knowing that Susan Bones also received one after their day in the infirmary. It felt wonderful to be included in something almost like a club, like something that she was a part of that had a requirement. And no other Gryffindor girl had received other than Ginny. She’d written to her father and informed him of the special gift and how it was a trend among muggleborns. Today she held a copy of The Quibbler that showcased an article-with picture-on the tradition of the gift and its significance. Not having one definitely meant one had been snubbed-as in the case of one Daphne Greengrass-and there had been several inquiries made ever since she received the handmade gift. Maybe not adorned in precious stones or enchantments, the simple braid and charms still resonated among teenage curiosity.

Hermione beamed at the article, promising she’d answer any questions Luna had regarding other muggle traditions she was curious about and was willing to help impact interest with her father’s magazine. There were those who often doubted the credibility of the information no thanks to some bashing from Skeeter.

“Oh Luna, would you happen to know the proper dietary needs of a June beetle? I’ve just caught the loveliest emerald green one and could use your expertise in the field of its care.”

“I’d be delighted. We could do it today. Are you still teaching the boys karate?”

She nodded vigorously. There would be no skimping on lessons from now on. Which reminded her that she needed a word with Cho on the matter. Promising to meet up at a later time, she waved off in search of her other Ravenclaw friend and knew the girl needed an explanation as to why they bolted mid-lesson. 

………………………..

Finding himself alone with Neville again wasn’t so awkward as it used to be, now that he knew he was now studying a muggle song with Slytherins Tracey and Millicent, who’d taken to assisting him in his musical surprise for their dear friend by slowing and rewriting the tempo of the song for him to be able to handle playing on his ukulele and sing at the same time.

He had to say he was impressed.

“Have you serenaded yet?” the Gryffindor asked of him as they made their way to the lab.

No, he had yet to reach that stage of wooing. He’d done flowers, the public gifts, the private gifts, the hand holding and kissing, the sinful snogging and one forbidden night in her bed…but he’d yet to have written her a song or had one performed in her name. Quite lax of him. But then again, he’d just made a declaration of intending, and now he needed to back that claim up should Weasley try to contend against him.

Once they were inside he pulled a sheet of parchment from her notebook and dipped the quill that she had sitting with all the equipment and jotted a quick, polite yet brief letter to both his parents expressing the urgency of the matter. Now was not the time for pretense with either. His mother would know his intentions were pure while his father might balk but allow him to carry on for the sake of the game. But there were no envelopes or sealing wax in here, and it was best to have this letter off as soon as possible, so he’d have to entrust this to someone else as he didn’t see himself getting out of the lesson today.

Like an answer to his prayers, Pansy arrived on the arm of Hermione, following after a huffing Cho Chang still in a well-meaning rant to the little brunette that had wrangled her into this endeavor. Now that Theo no longer protested, Potter wasn’t making moon eyes, and his own former mates had beaten him to a pulp, they were going to enlist all the help they could get in defending themselves.

And given what he knew, they were going to need it.

“Pans darling, do me a solid and send this to my parents?” he asked of her once she and Hermione parted linked arms and deposited their bags.

“I just got here…” she whined.

“I know luv but this is important.” He pressed the folded note into her palm, knowing damn well she would read it, possibly even refold it accommodate whatever envelope she found in the common room. If there was anyone he could trust with this, it was her.

She sighed, his puppy eye plea finally wearing her down. “Fine, but you owe me you prat.”

“I’m well aware.” He replied, completely serious. She would be too once she knew what the letter contained. She gave a wave to everyone, promising to return and promptly left so as not to waste any more time. Had her journey not needed to extend all the way down into the dungeon dorms she would’ve gladly invited Neville but this was not a Hogsmeade weekend and thus the viper pit would have plenty of snakes loafing about. She would be flying solo.

……………………….

While every dorm was equipped with desks, there was also a few to be found in various corners of the Slytherin common room. The elves kept each desk well stocked with parchment, envelopes, chiseled tipped quills and various bottles of ink and sealing wax in a rainbow of colors, set with the Slytherin emblem stopper. 

Luckily the room was nearly empty, a couple of first years playing Exploding Snap at a table on the other end of the room. No one would be bothering her for the brief time this little task would take. She pulled out the chair and sat, instantly grabbing an envelope and quill, selecting classic black ink and was about to address it to the both of them before figuring she ought to see whom the letter was initially for and set it down. Luckily, it included both upon first sight, but against her better judgement, she couldn’t help that her eyes scanned further along and widened with each sentence.

A hand flew to her mouth to prevent her from saying anything that would draw the attention of the card playing housemates, and she hastily folded the letter back up, tucked it into the envelope, sealed it and then abruptly fled the room with barely a head raised at her sudden departure. She huffed and puffed through the halls and up the stairs to the owlery, breathless and determined, marching straight over to the mighty Eurasian Eagle Owl and held the envelope out to him.

He was familiar enough with Pansy to accept the order, and tilted his head in his signature way as she petted him and told him to be a good boy and deliver it to both Lord and Lady Malfoy. With a silent flap and leap the bird was off, her favor complete. But boy, Draco had some explaining to do….

………………………..

Midway through another round of wand disarming and casting an attack spell in fluid succession, Ulysses was tapping furiously at the window to be heard over the din of teenagers. It wasn’t until he nearly cracked the glass with his beak that the sharp trill finally broke through the grunts and shuffling. Draco broke free of Theo’s grapple and pushed up and darted to the window, sweaty and breathing hard, filled with curiosity as to why the bird had returned with a letter-and so quickly too.

He tore it open and was surprised there was a second folded note within, and looked towards the responded letter for confirmation. It hailed from his mother, informing him that what he asked for would be done, but he needed to send his owl quickly to his aunt once he received the letter he now held. Wasting not a second, knowing that time was always of the essence when it came to his mother’s clandestine meetings he was only now learning about, and throwing caution to the wind, shoved the folded note back into the talons of his beautiful bird and ordered him to take it to Aunt Andromeda.

……………………..

“Any word yet on what the third trial will be?” Lucius demanded of the portly fellow, after he’d apologized profusely for his tardiness, claiming an ugly orange feline had been chasing after him around the grounds.

Lucius cared little for the struggles of an Animagus with such a pitiful creature form like that of a rat. Though, it had its merit for being a mostly unobserved and ignored pest that invoked little fear, and thus people felt no need to hold their tongues in its presence.

“Not yet. The information is very tight lipped, even amongst colleagues.” He answered. “I’ve trailed after both representatives of the other schools and have gotten as close as I can to the headmasters’ office but either he’s got it warded from any animal being able to enter or some other design because I just cannot get in.”

Lucius blew a disappointed breath out through his nose. Pettigrew was sounding as pathetic and whiney as his son had been ever since first year. There was always someone else to blame, wasn’t there? 

“And what of Snape’s rooms?”

Pettigrew shook his head.

“You are proving to be as useful as a flobberworm.” The Malfoy patriarch sneered. “Even as a rat you cannot properly hide in the shadows and obtain information? How do you think you’ll be of service to our venerable lord upon his return?”

The sniveling nine-fingered man shrank back from the venomous tone and words spat in his direction. “I have seen other things. Things that may or may not be important…” he hinted slyly.

“Out with it.”

“The Potter brat has ended his friendship with the Weasley boy, and seeks out your son and young Theodore Nott as his new companions.”

Curiously, Lucius stroked his chin in contemplation. “Hmm, that may be of use to us…perhaps another pawn into play…”

…………………………..

Narcissa was not prone to being anxious-at least in her youth she was not, though that changed over the years-and no one would be none the wiser if they were to engage in friendly conversation with her in passing the shops in Diagon Alley. Inside she was a hot bundle of nerves, her skin practically itching, heart racing, palms almost sweating. A most undignified and unladylike manner to be discovered in for sure. She knew it would take time before the letter made its way to her sister, and that Andromeda would need just a little personal time of her own to disguise herself before arriving at the designated shop.

It did nothing to quell her as she squeezed the hefty Malfoy signet ring and ran over all the possible things she could do with the allotted time she had at hand. She knew Lucius didn’t pay much attention to her withdrawals, especially if she conjured a sheet of floor length parchment full of names of people that could be recipients of the Malfoy/Black generosity. He’d tried before in their early years and nearly went crossed-eyed, marveling at how she was able to keep track of so many people and know them all intimately enough to have them in mind when shopping.

She remembered beaming with pride at the compliment, a real sense of accomplishment at being able to offer a service other than her wifely duties and prove her worth as the Lady of the House, overseeing all the hobnobbing and social bridging that went hand-in-hand with his business connections. It was one thing to be a business partner, or owner and have a gathering of colleagues to discuss ventures, it was quite another to potentially woo prospective investors and rivals with a well-placed gift of jewels to the wife, who in turn would draw the attention of those around her, boasting of the little present from ‘their good friend’ and get heads turning.

Knowing who preferred rubies to emeralds, furs to silks, jasmine to rose was how the women played their hand as the men slid galleons into palms and firewhiskies to each other. That, or a subtly placed wand tucked into the ribs of another, all while wearing a smile.

Knowing how Lucius was then and how he was now though, made her cautious of how to play her hand here. Withdrawing too much would be suspicious; withdrawing too little could be just as well. Malfoys need not skimp on the price of anything. But his paranoia was growing by the day, his anxiety giving her anxiety as he fretted over the finer details with those also bearing the mark, those men in and out at any given day or hour with information. And matters with their son were just as pressing.

Having been informed of his once tight knit group of Slytherins had split, with one half supporting his dalliance with the girl and other finding it a betrayal didn’t quite raise the alarm it should’ve at first. Not until the three had taken to a physical altercation had it been made painfully clear that Draco was playing a dangerous game and the peril the girl was in all more evident if she was receiving the threat from both Slytherin and Gryffindor. It had taken her entire life’s worth of upbringing and training of linguistic placating to convince Lucius to not drag Draco out of school by his ear and Crucio him within an inch of his life at being made a fool of, as well as plenty of sweet promises of what she would do later that evening.

They hadn’t spent a night as husband and wife since the anniversary of their marriage, and even then, it had lost the luster it once held. She had more than made up for it that recent evening, knowing that any distraction was a necessary risk to take in order to protect her son. Even from his own father. 

It’ll be worth it, she told herself. Hopefully by the end of this summer I’ll be seen as the poor unfortunate wife of the disgraced Lord Malfoy and can publicly make my escape.

………………………………

For years, Andromeda had kept a low profile with her muggleborn husband Edward Tonks, no longer a face in high wizarding society, no longer under the obligation of false smiles and polite lies in overcrowded rooms with overly dressed wizards all trying to outdo the other and get their picture gracing the cover of the next issue of The Prophet. She enjoyed the simplicity in the freedom of being cast out of the family had brought her, her only regret was the loss of her younger sister Narcissa, whom had looked up to her fondly and hung on her every word in their childhood.

The exile was hard at first. There was a long spell of depression and regrets, but the love she had for Edward was worth it. He was a kind man, gentle and considerate-everything she could hope for in a pureblood wizard if one had presented themselves-and he doted on her relentlessly in order to make up for the hole in her heart. It was especially hard, if she’d happen to be out in Diagon Alley and see her family, and how her parents would turn their heads sharply away and tug Narcissa before she could even protest, her eyes pleading for just a minute of connection.

She knew that not all love was lost, and that if there was one ray of hope that perhaps she could still retain some part of her former life. It was at great jeopardy, when she started leaving little notes in all the familiar boutiques she knew Narcissa was known to frequent, casting the notice-me-not charm on them, enchanting them so that only her sister would be the one to locate them and wait. The waiting was the most agonizing part. Months had gone by without a response and she dare not risk disturbing the notes should they still be need to be found.

It wasn’t until the announcement of Narcissa’s engagement to Lucius that brought them closer than they’d been in those few years, a chance meeting in Madam Malkin’s as Narcissa was going over the selection of silks that she smelled that familiar perfume and heard that little throat clearing cough and turned her head. A rush of words, mixture of apology and confessed fears were whispered between the estranged sisters before they knew their time was running short. Thus began a series of secret messages, tucked away in little shop corners until they were able to orchestrate physical meetings.

Pictures of a newborn Nymphadora and then Draco had been traded; tiny trinkets and even secret caches of galleons from Narcissa to ensure her family had enough money around the holidays. It had become like an affair, an entire life living in the shadows with the briefest of touches and cheek kisses and introduction of bright eyed babies. As Nymphadora grew older and was able to control her ability, she was toted along, getting to meet the aunt she’d heard so much about and see the little blond cousin she’d otherwise never had known. Those young years were blessedly sweet, innocent and joyful until Lucius started implementing his own high-handed approach in the way his son was raised, and watched brokenheartedly as her sister tried to undermine him and bring Draco back into the light.

For years, she thought all hope was lost. Draco adored his father, wanted nothing more than to please the apparently unpleasable man, willing to hurt others just for that barely there smile the man would bequeath in his son’s direction. Until this year when Narcissa had come forward with the news that Draco had secretly fancied the girl he bullied, until she’d seen a copy of that photo Narcissa treasured more than her family’s inherited jewels. And she saw it for herself in the young lad’s eyes. Now she knew that her sister needed her more than ever as did her young nephew. He was going to need all the support he could get, especially with all the memories Narcissa had sent her in regards to the things Lucius had done over the past twenty years, in regards to the war and what he was planning to do.

Along with the secretly sent memories and photographs, Narcissa had slowly been draining galleons from the Black vault, procuring it under the guise of shopping excursions and events she was to host, sequestering away the funds under her sister’s protection. As a disowned family member, Andromeda would not be subjected to the same laws that bound Narcissa to her money, and if the Malfoy/Black vaults were seized, it would only affect the Malfoy trio and not herself-now that she was also a Tonks. It was a contingency her bright little sister was prepared for, that once this evidence was brought to light, that the entirety of the Malfoy estate and accounts would be systematically frozen until the law deemed it available.

In the meantime, what was a woman to do to provide for herself and offspring? Starve? Be cast into the street? If she couldn’t have access to her own family’s coins because of the actions of her husband then how did they expect her to live? It would be as much as a punishment to her as it would him in his fall from grace regardless of her participation in the matters. So, much like the squirrels flittering about in the park, rooting about for one of their precious nuts, Andromeda helped her sister steal her own inheritance and bury it within her own, stashed away for the time when she might very well have to live off it for an undisclosed amount of time.

She wasn’t a Slytherin for nothing.

……………………………

After another grueling, arduous lesson had been concluded, Cho bade farewell to the group of fourth years and met up with her boyfriend, a kiss in greeting as she threw her arms around his neck.

“That little lab is becoming quite the talk about town.” He said, throwing his arm over her shoulder. “Just what goes on in there?”

She chuckled and flung back her glossy black hair. “Oh Eddy, are you jealous?”

The Hufflepuff laughed. “Well, a pretty girl like you, surrounded by adoring fourth years? I’d have to say curious more like. Unless that Potter has caught your eye?”

She dismissed his joke with a pshaw and wrist flick. “There’s only one Hogwarts champion for me.”

Cedric beamed with a little bit of pride. “Good. I’d rather not have to actually beat the kid at anything other than the tournament.”

“And you’ve been doing quite well. Granted the odds are more in favor of there being a Hogwarts winner I’m still firmly rooting for the Badgers. Show everyone just what a Hufflepuff is capable of.” She added with a little grit in her teeth. She hated how the Puffs were considered weak pushovers merely because they didn’t resort to the usual tactics others were not afraid to employ in competition.

Gryffindors were brash, running headlong right into the fray and relying more on brute strength or speed to carry themselves through. Slytherins observed and plotted, only expending the amount of energy they believed was required, and Ravenclaws ran through all contingencies, finding the best route yet thinking on the fly if an obstacle presented itself. Hufflepuffs were known to be laid back but not cowardly, determined but not reckless, ambitious but not devious. Therefore, not taken seriously.

Cedric Diggory was going to show the wizarding world that they were a force to be reckoned with.

“So, these lessons wouldn’t have anything to do with what happened in Hogsmeade would it?” he inquired as they strolled along, his tone becoming serious.

She nodded. “They do. You saw how bad those boys beat him, and they were his friends!” she shook her head, just sick with the image of it. “Hermione told me that there’s only six Slytherins willing to stand beside her, Draco included. Seeing as they’re getting serious the others are no longer holding back their feelings on the matter and they’ve got to be able to fend for themselves when they’re outnumbered.”

He grimaced. “That’s awful, having to be on guard all the time. It was one thing when she was still in Gryffindor, but she’s in a far more hazardous situation after being resorted. I certainly hope next year is better. Let everyone spend the summer to calm down over it and by next term it won’t be the big sensation it is right now.”

“And you’re a shoe-in for Head Boy; you’ll put anyone in their place if they start something.” She perked up brightly.

“Miss Sprout hasn’t confirmed anything but she said the chances certainly improved with me being selected for the tournament. Although, I don’t like the idea of that being a contributing factor as it is unfair to all the other blokes in my year.”

She tsked. “Eddy Eddy Eddy, you absolute darling Puff, this is exactly what I mean. You want everything to be fair and equal and the world just isn’t like that. Whatever advantages fall into your lap are opportunities you must grab because they do not stay long.”

He shrugged. “True as that may be, just because they present themselves does not mean I must take them. Often there is a hidden price to pay for such a boon, or another opportunity that presents only after the choice has been made. I mean, that’s how it was for us, wasn’t it?” he nudged her shoulder, reminding her that had she accepted the invitation to Hogsmeade last year with Marcus Belby that she never would’ve had the chance meeting with Cedric that eventually led to them becoming a couple. While Belby was as nice as any given Ravenclaw, there was just something about Cedric that snagged her interest.

“Fair enough.” She conceded. “You almost sounded like a Ravenclaw there.”

Again, that award winning smile. “I’ve certainly been influenced enough…”

…………………..

“Things are moving awfully fast now.” Andromeda said with a heavy breath, having listened to her sister explain in detail what she had not been able to go in length at with her letters. The situation in Hogsmeade for instance, which had her aghast with horror at the injuries incurred upon both young lovers.

“Exponentially.” Narcissa concurred with a lifted teacup to her lips. “How is Dora’s Auror training? I can’t believe she got accepted so young! She’s what? Twenty? Twenty one now?”

Andromeda nodded. “Twenty-one and excelling despite being as green as a fresh spring day. They couldn’t refuse someone with her ability, naturally she passed the Concealment and Disguise without even having even blinking in the direction of a book. But it’s her bloody clumsiness that gets in the way of Flying O’s. Girl can’t walk a straight line to save her life.” She tsked with a shake of her head.

“This summer she’s interning at St. Mungo’s.” she continued, ever aware that any passerby could be a spy for Lucius. “Perhaps handling sensitive equipment and injured people might help quell that little tick of hers.”

Her lovely blonde sister concurred with a silent nod, peeking a glance at her own pocket watch. “Alright, it’s time.” She said with a sigh.

“You’ll be fine Cissa.” She comforted. “I’ll be here when you return. Just do what you always do, change nothing in your routine, arouse no suspicion.”

The Malfoy matriarch nodded along to her sister’s encouraging words. Despite the many times she’d taken the ring as identification and made a withdrawal and slunk out of Gringott’s with a satchel of gold, knowing she was going to have to sift through the vault for a family heirloom for their son was daunting. She’d long figured that the young muggleborn witch was a practical kind of girl, not to be too enticed by the riches her family so took for granted, the Floriography book an exception due to the wealth of knowledge within, not on its surface.

Andromeda had transfigured the newest vial of memories into a necklace, pressed against her skin so she knew it was safe, wondering what new bit of information her sister had scrapped together that she could use against her husband. It had surprised her that there had been a vial from Snape, having used Legilimency on Draco, uncovering the truth of what happened over Easter holiday, mortified that the man had used the Unforgiveable on his own son-a child no less!-and how Narcissa had found him on the floor of their dining room in a mess, having been Imperio’d to stay away. Narcissa herself had no memory of it, as one could be commanded to forget such things while under the curse, but agreed it made sense with her loss of time and why she hadn’t heard a thing.

She was glad the man was willing to assist in the small ways he could, and that memory alone was worth practically half of all the ones Narcissa had provided, for it was illegal to use an Unforgiveable in the first place, let alone on a minor. That in itself should be enough grounds for the woman to petition for divorce and rights to her own dowry and estates. Along with it was the abhorrent letter Lucius penned to Draco, congratulating him on using his brilliant mind for once and that he took take his pleasure with the Granger girl as he saw fit, just as long as it looked believable enough for Harry Potter to be convinced and trust him, leading the boy into a trap that was set within the third trial of the tournament.

It was then that she knew time was of the essence, that if anything happened to the Potter boy before the established time it could throw everything they’ve worked so hard for out of the window. She prayed that McGonagall and Dumbledore had the boy watched over in the meantime. And she worried for the sake of the dear muggleborn witch, wondering how the girl who’d managed to get herself resorted was handling herself with so many perils around. The interviews and photographs she’d seen in the papers could only paint a minimal picture but she was no doubt convinced the girl was exceptional-for how else would she have captured the heart of a dragon?

In order to keep her place at the little bistro she pulled out a book and placed an order for another round of tea, settling in as if she intended to be there a while with a galleon slid subtly towards the server when they returned with the kettle. As someone who’d been living a secret life for little over twenty years, it was as much second nature as breathing.

……………………….

Narcissa sauntered into Gringott’s with the air an authority of a woman who owned the ground she walked on, pleased that she was recognized enough that other customers inside tipped their hats and chins down in polite greetings as she passed them, heading straight for the desk and setting the signet ring on the counter for inspection by the goblin behind.

“I’ll need access to the Black family vault along with my withdrawal.” She announced to the gnarly little beast as he scrutinized the ring for authenticity. Once it met the satisfactory testing results, he nodded his knobby head and signaled for another to escort her into the bowels of the magnificent establishment.

Once inside the designated room of treasures she took a breath and looked about. There was far less gold in here than what had been originally noted in her dowry, should Lucius ever lay his eyes upon it he’d be furious with the loss even though it was knuts in a basket compared to all the assets the Malfoy name claimed. They were in no way hurting for funds. This small fortune was nothing of consequence. It looked paltry now, after two decades of slowly draining it dry, but that was merely in stacks of gold. There were still plenty of valuables in the form of artifacts from ancient civilizations, gowns of long dead queens displayed on mannequins, rows and rows of shelves just dripping in jeweled necklaces to last a woman a lifetime-some of them never have even adorned her neck-along with their accompanying earring or bracelet. A display shelf held crystal adorned dance slippers, several tiaras and crowns to pair with those gowns, figurines carved of living glass that danced with a command, several clippings of long thought extinct flora held in stasis under glass domes, and the collection of porcelain dolls from her childhood that real hair from famous debutantes and high ranking ladies that had fallen from grace, such as Queen Marie Antoinette after her beheading.

Next to an Egyptian sarcophagus was the cabinet she was in search of, containing the family heirlooms and not the displayed prizes of war when cities were sacked and raided before being reduced to ashes. Upon opening the drawers she was hit with the nostalgic memories of her youth, watching her mother adorn her neck in pearls and diamonds, promising one day the jewels would be hers. Being the youngest of three sisters, there was always the risk that Bellatrix and Andromeda would lay claim to a piece they’d fancied for years even before her birth.

With Andromeda being cast out of the family, most of what was intended for her had fallen into her lap. Despite her best intended wishes, no matter how she tried, she couldn’t get her elder sister to accept any of them back. She offered, begged, sent them anyway as a Christmas gift only for them to be returned along with the next missive proclaiming they had no value, sentimental or monetary. Having a son meant whatever jewels she procured would eventually go to her daughter-in-law and next Mrs. Malfoy. She’d never get to experience the joy of dressing a young lady up in this finery and watching her eyes sparkle at how beautiful they made her feel.

She wouldn’t be able to experience the type of motherhood she had longed for. Lucius didn’t want to try for another child, and she had a delicate disposition and had been quite frail and sickly during her pregnancy, tended to night and day for every little thing so as not to risk harm to her or the life she carried. It had been the worst nine months of her life, being treated like an invalid, having a husband glare down his nose whenever she winced in pain at a little kick, her petite body bruised and tender from the active fetus within.

Shaking away the creeping dark thoughts, she finally found the little grey box and opened it to make sure both rings were secure. A set of promise rings; a band of silver with a series of runes scribed, punctuated by perfectly cut and rounded stones of Rose Quartz. Oddly simple for such a prestigious family, then again they were merely promise rings, the first part of the treaty pact where it either party could simply refuse and walk away with no ramifications. Engagement meant a deal had been reached; a trade between the families had come to pass with the intention to fulfill with marriage and thus bonding the two.

Despite their simple design, anyone seeing Hermione and Draco wearing these rings would know their significance and what it symbolized for them. And it would cement his standing with her. Other witches would know he was serious and other wizards would know she was spoken for. The young Weasley would see he had lost and therefore end his pursuit, but as in the case of the Hogsmeade assault it might bring about more discontent from fellow Slytherins.

No matter, there was little over a month left of school and plenty of engagements were announced in that time. It was not unheard of. But this was the Malfoy family. And a muggleborn. It was unheard of. All of wizarding London and Great Britain would know before graduation. Just how was Snape going to handle the gossip rumor mill that was Hogwarts and Hogsmeade? Just one child’s letter to home would start the verbal fire. 

She fisted the box tightly. Fuck it. Let the world know. Let them believe what they want. Let it be known. Her son was breaking tradition and hearts by following his own and she’d be damned if he didn’t have her supporting him every step of the way. There would be plenty of drama to come the end of June.

Lucius had no idea his whole world was going to collapse around him.

………………………..

Draco received the box with the evening post, not bothering to open it at the table and pocketed it with all the nonchalance a teenager could muster amidst his friends and beloved, all but one unaware of what lay inside. Just one finely arched brow from Parkinson clued him in that she was aware. They would of course, speak later on the matter. She intended to bend his ear on just what dear little Neville was up to as he and her two friends were practicing a song and needed the lab after the karate lesson was over.  
All through the lesson she watched with rapt fascination as he took over administering the plant samples to control environment potions to see if they caused a reaction, and so far, they had come up with nothing conclusive. She loved hearing him prattle on about the properties within the samples and had diligent notes of his own as well as the ones Hermione had started. Needless to say she was not surprised at the lack thereof from Draco, but seeing as he was in a sparring match against two friends and their tutor, he didn’t have the time to dedicate to the project.

Neville assured her that all through Spring Break Hermione had gotten the quaffle rolling by setting up the lab in the first place and systematically collected the samples of pollen, nectar, and chlorophyll to have enough ready for testing once everyone returned as well as tending to her Occlumency lessons so he was only too happy to offer his assistance now that he knew of their strong bond to their flowers, and thus each other.

Given the noise from their physical excursion, it gave them cover to whisper to each other. “For some of the smartest students this school has seen, I don’t think either one of them is aware of what this really means.” He leaned over in confidence to her.

She was intently watching the dainty Snowdrop and bulbous Dragon’s Breath entangle each other once Hermione took a sneak attack behind Draco as he was facing off against Harry, Theo coming in at his side. He was always hesitant about front attacks but just needed to vaguely recall how he used to detest the dark-haired prat to get him focused on landing a strike; only this time they were all ambushing each other to test reflexes and cognitive awareness.

Upon contact, their flowers sprang to life with movement, emitting more of their mist until the glass fogged over once again. She following the condensation as it pooled in the tube that led down into a vial for collecting. Fascinating. No wonder Neville was spending so much time in here now. But once the karate lesson was over and the quartet thanked Cho for her oversight-guiding them and ensuring no one got injured-they started bundling their things to go, Neville reluctantly lagged behind and seemed hesitant to explain why.

Until Hermione piped up that he was wanting to learn a muggle song to sing for his Gran’s birthday and that Tracey and Millicent were helping him. While confused about how that whole arrangement came about, she offered to stay and hang out, but Hermione looped her arm through hers and walked her out, claiming she had to see a Ravenclaw about a bug and Neville didn’t need any distractions. Since the guys obviously needed to hit the showers, leaving Hermione alone, there was no other choice but to accompany her.

That evening, Draco sat upon his bed and made sure both Blaise and Theo were asleep, but still secured his bed with a silencing charm as he drew his canopy curtains and lit the tip of his wand for light, pulling the little wrapped box out of the pocket of robe and tearing it off. Not that he didn’t appreciate his mother’s oversight into making sure the obvious jewelry box was not discovered for what it was when it was delivered to him but now it was just another obstacle between him and the treasure inside. He had to calm his shaking hands and frantically beating heart before he could get the lid pried open and when he did he released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding at seeing the pair.

The reality of the situation weighed heavily on his shoulders then, knowing that he had to approach this properly, but also logically so she would know that it was mainly for show-just him making good on his word and staking his claim-but that he eventually wanted this to become a reality for them. He’d already come to the conclusion that she was the one. THE ONE. There was just something inside him that came alive when in her presence and knowing she genuinely liked him back made it all worth it. 

She likes me. She trusts me. I have to prove to her that I am a man of my word.

Neville Longbottom may be preparing to serenade his witch, adhering to the proper guidelines of pureblood courting but Draco was flying by the seat of his Nimbus, the guidebook long abandoned as he realized there was a vast difference between the machinations of purebloods and muggleborns, ready to pretend-ask (but-really-mean-it) his witch for her hand in promise to be his.

He fell back against his pillows mind going a mile a minute as to how he was going to ask her, thinking that Neville had the right idea with a song. He should pick a song. Starting tomorrow he’d go through her records and see what stuff she had, maybe slyly sneak it out of her which was her favorite. Yeah, find out her favorite and then set the lab up all nice-just the two of them-and lure her there with something, maybe claim there was finally a reaction with the potions? No, she’d kill him afterwards. Just say he wanted to talk? No, that sounded too severe. Maybe say he needed work on his footwork? After all, she’d managed to slip in a foot and knock them clean out from underneath him….Maybe…that one might work….  
……………………


	65. Mellifluous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moody (Crouch) receives a note from Lucius. 
> 
> In pursuit of a song for Hermione, Draco accidentally creates a moment for Theo and Harry with unintentional assistance from Millicent.
> 
> Neville and Tracey team up to serenade Pansy with audience of Draco, Hermione, Harry, Theo and plenty of others.

Monday May 15th 1995

Today marked the beginning of crunch time for those preparing to take their NEWTS and OWLS, so many of the professors began their lesson with a lecture on the importance of utilizing these last few weeks of school for studies and gaining any extra credit where they could, and to not be distracted by the events of the final trial of the tournament just little over a month away.

As they were merely fourth years, the pressure was not was as imminent but nonetheless looming as this was their last year free of worry from the standard OWLS that were required of fifth year. Passing an OWL determined the continued success onto NEWT, needing an Exceeds Expectations or Outstanding. The tests were both written and practical, especially in Potions, for demonstrating the step-by-step process of brewing was considered only slightly more important than the theoretical transcripts.

This meant that the library would be in far more demand than usual, with Madam Pince even stricter than normal on the importance of silence, and the leniency of borrowing more books but with a shorter return period. Never know when someone else might need a copy of 101 Uses for Dragon’s Blood. Cho had come to Hermione in the Great Hall at breakfast, explaining that she’d only be able to dedicate one of the weekend days from now on to help with the karate lessons, and apologized that she might have to cut her time in them shorter. Hermione was well aware of the influence of the OWLS and what it meant for their futures, especially if Cho wanted to continue pursuing Quidditch as her professional career. It didn’t mean she could simply ignore the importance of Ancient Runes and Transfiguration.

Pansy waited for the chance to speak with Draco about the certain little something he’d asked of his mother, knowing Hermione needed to be out of earshot of them both without it arousing suspicion. The opportunity presented itself when Tracey and Millicent, now answering to the abbreviated nickname Mils, pulled her aside to talk music during lunch, and oddly enough Neville sat with Potter, Theo and Blaise and whispered animatedly to them. 

The beautiful spring day had beckoned them for another outdoor seating, taking the same spot as before. Plenty of other students had the same thought, with the Weasley twins practicing jinxes on each other with Angelina laughing and taking pictures. Pansy pulled Draco a ways off, over to the outer corridor where she was certain they wouldn’t be overheard by their friends.

“Explain yourself Draco. Right now.” She demanded.

“What needs explaining? You obviously read the letter.”

She smacked his chest. “Prat. Don’t play like that. Just how do you think you’re going to weasel your way out when your father tells you it’s time to cut her off?”

He rolled his eyes and sighed, not wanting to have to explain this situation but she’d pretty much cornered him and if he didn’t give her something, she’d do something dramatic. So he slumped against the stone wall and glanced over at their expanded friend group. A bunch of snakes and lions and a few eagles all together peacefully.   
“Pans, you have to trust me that I mean well when it comes to her.” He began, whispering in confidence that his unintentional slip up was forcing his hand, but he really wanted to seal the deal with her after obtaining her parents’ blessing-at some point in the summer.

“You’re an idiot at times, you know that, right?” she laughed with arms crossed. She loved this idiot though. “I’ll see how I can help. Goodness knows she’ll need it.”

They both would.

……………………..

Ginny was walking with Luna, the two being quite the pair ever since Hermione had been resorted. Feeling alone among the other girls in the Lion’s tower, with her brother being an outright arsehole most days, Gin simply didn’t have anyone else she could trust with her honest opinion without judgment. The once open atmosphere had become a toxic cesspool if anyone dared mention Hermione, any Slytherin in particular, and Professor Snape.

While she may not the savvy wit required to be in Ravenclaw, she certainly felt more at ease with the soft-spoken blonde and wished they could converse in their dorms all night, rather than hear the endless gossip mongering of Lavender and the nasal laugh of Parvati even from a wall away. Loyalty was a strong trait in any Gryffindor, more so when blood relations were concerned but for the life of her she had reached her limit with Ronald.

“Luna, I knew something was wrong all through Spring Break when he did nothing but practice dueling spells. Now he’s running off with Lavender every spare minute and I know what they’ve been doing. There’s no way our mum is going to take that lightly, especially if the dumb cow gets pregnant.” She shuddered. “Godric’s gonads, could you imagine having her as a sister-in-law?”

Luna tilted her head off to the side. “I don’t have any siblings for her to marry, so the closest she could come to being family is if my father adopted her.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. She should’ve expected that. “You know she automatically expected to be my best friend just because she’s sucking my brother’s tongue? Ha! What a laugh…”

“She might be sucking something else too…”

Ginny made a gagging sounded. “Luna Marigold Lovegood!” she gasped, nudging her with her elbow. “You saucy minx! Though you’re probably right.”

“I read about it a sexual education book called the Karma Sutra.” She stated. “It was brightly illustrated too, which was necessary for some of the positions the people bent themselves in….”

Ginny quickly clapped a hand over the oblivious blonde to prevent her from saying anything further that could be overheard, given that they weren’t too far off from the courtyard and she could see Draco and Pansy ahead a ways. She wasn’t sure if her abrupt silencing method was the cause, but Luna froze and those violety eyes met her own.  
Cautiously, she removed her hand.

Luna snatched it and pulled her away, bringing them into the shadows for them to hunch together.

“Luu, I’m sorry-”

“Shhh!”

So they stood there, collectively holding their breath, with a simple-cast Notice-Me-Not charm. As long as they remained still, they wouldn’t be discovered. They were Third Years’ after all, still working their way through the curriculum of spells and regardless of being bumped up into the Fourth Years’ DADA class they were not permitted to use higher grade spells out of the classroom. The Trace put on their wands would see to that.

And just when Ginny thought that Luna might’ve been mistaken in whatever vibe she felt or voice or feeling or vision or whatever the flipping heck it was that got in her head, she heard the unmistakable grumbling of her brother as he stormed by with clomping footfalls and that familiar angered flush to his face. Ron could never hide his emotions when his pallor would change color like a mood ring. Energy practically crackled off him as he raged through the outer corridor. 

All the more surprising was that no words or physical altercation took place when he passed by Malfoy and Parkinson, though there was a sizzling moment of eye contact that never wavered until the very nature of human vertebrae could no longer allow it and he turned his head away, continuing on his private warpath.

“Wow.” Pansy said, shuddering for dramatic effect. “Was that a ginger blizzard that just passed by?”

Draco couldn’t uncurl his lip fast enough. If the Weaselrunt had dared even breathed in his direction all bets of keeping his hands to himself were off.

“I never thought I’d see blue eyes so cold.” She murmured. “Something must’ve really set him off this time.”

From their hiding spot, Ginny and Luna exhaled a sigh of relief, undoing the charm. His rumblings hadn’t been articulated clearly enough for her to overhear them properly but he sure as hell wasn’t happy with Draco-big surprise-and she wondered what could’ve happened now that made her brother so ungodly irate.

“Just how did you know he was coming?” she gaped at her Ravenclaw friend.

“His energy…” Luna whispered with a shiver. “It’s…so…dark…”

……………………..

Crouch took another swig of the flask of polyjuice, keeping his appearance as Alastor Moody up and going so as not to risk demorphing into his own features in the down period. He’d had a few close calls this year, with one actual blunder that led him to obliviate the poor student who’d come to class after hours. All through Spring Break he had started a whole new batch, securing enough to continue on through April and May.

It would’ve been so much easier if Moody had been selected to be a Potions professor rather than Defense of Dark Arts, but in the long run it made no sense to uproot Snape. Having being an Auror made Moody all the more preferred for the position anyways, and he’d been later informed that Snape was still on their side, although he had his suspicions-especially in regards to the Granger girl.

She was by far the most meddlesome student in the whole Fourth Year, and the school. She asked too many questions, voiced her opinions-quite loudly-and that whole resorting act of hers had thrown the entire school off kilter. And how she’d managed to entice the boys around her he had no idea. She was hardly anything to look at and he’d been in prison for Merlin’s sake. He’d fuck a pygmy puff if it so much as wore a skirt.

But a curious thing happened that morning that changed his perspective, and it all had to do with a letter from Lucius Malfoy.

Seeing as the man was behind most of the strings being pulled for this coup to work, he took the man’s word to heart. Although the girl certainly didn’t behave as if she was Imperio’d, she certainly was taken with the man’s son, and Draco was putting on a good show of looking every inch the devoted, besotted youth in love. If the elder Malfoy had no qualms to the match, stating that it was all according to a plan his son had concocted on his own to prove himself, by all means, he’d led the cards fall where they lie.  
He had his mission, he knew his part. Pretending to be that crotchety old Scot all bloody year long was hard work enough, tack on the perceptive nature of that blasted girl and the scrutiny of Snape and the distance from Dumbledore and his game face had to be on at all times until curfew. He practically had to beat them off with his cane at the beginning of the year when students came up asking for autographs on their chocolate frog cards, wanting to hear stories from the war, and wanting pictures they could send home to their parents. He’d underestimated the fame the wizard’s reputation preceded. 

Wasn’t too much longer now, and that was enough to put him in good spirits. He couldn’t wait to finally stop sipping the swill that was polyjuice but Merlin-damned if he couldn’t taste a proper brew after all this time. No more fucking questions from fucking know-it-all students who didn’t know their fucking place in life. He was no one’s babysitter. Teaching should be considered a prison sentence in itself. Being confined to this hunk of Scottish soil all nearly all year with a thousand swarming brats with a thousand little dramas playing out each day, Ha! half these students shouldn’t even be here, that Chimera especially.

He was all too happy to ensure a certain little Mudblood didn’t return for the following year.

She’d be lucky if she survived the rest of this one.

…………………………..

With Luna’s assistance Hermione had turned the unbreakable jar into a terrarium for her Skeeter-Beetle, providing grubs plucked from the ponds’ edge, under rocks and in the damp soil. The insect was well provided for. And to make sure the loathsome creature knew she wasn’t fucking around, she’d found a rather nice butterfly and after apologizing to it, stunned it dead and pinned it to a picture frame under glass and tucked it in right next to the jar so there was no way Skeeter could avoid seeing it unless she burrowed in the shallow amount of dirt in the glass prison.

When she wanted privacy she merely dropped a cloth over the thing-and sometimes left her like that for an entire day. While she was sorely tempted to shake the jar until the beetle was rattled senseless, she chose a far more languid pace of punishment, giving Skeeter plenty of time to reap what she had sewn. More often than not she ignored the jar in general, it was just another thing sitting on the desk and as long as Crookshanks didn’t get the urge to bat it aside the woman contained within was completely fine.  
She wondered what living as a beetle for twelve years would do to a person…

A wave of relief washed over the group when she informed them that Skeeter had been caught and was currently held prisoner in her room-which had them all clamoring to see but she staunchly refused. Especially towards Daphne. She still didn’t trust the elitist snob and as long as her dorm was continuously warded she knew no one would be disturbing her prisoner. But no one’s reputation was suffering any longer, and so far no alarm had been raised on her disappearance. Hermione supposed that was normal for her, going “undercover” for stretches of length at a time, getting her scoop from the inconspicuous safety of a potted plant while people spoke freely, never suspecting an insect of being an eavesdropper.

Neville and Pansy’s courtship was secured, her parents approval and his grandmother’s support, the two of them making a fine example of pureblood perfection on their own terms. It didn’t matter that the Parkinson’s were infinitely wealthier, their daughter was provided for with inheritance and a hefty dowry. As they were both purebloods the fact that they came from rival Houses was overlooked and even joked about that it was their only flaw. They both were of fair complexion and dark hair, so naturally the wee ones would be the spitting image of them both. They both had high marks in class and were noted for being well-behaved, everything that made the gossipmongers thirst over as they read the latest article in the Prophet as a way to fill Skeeter’s usual spot on the Hogwarts scuttlebutt.

“At least this reporter uses real facts. Although I’d like them to not speculate what our future children will look like as we’re not even out of school yet! I don’t even have a promise ring on my finger!” Pansy declared, folding the newspaper and enjoying the spectacle that was Draco choking on pumpkin juice and Neville looking like he was to pass out.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “These old traditions are practically archaic in the modern era. We’re all just teenagers and they aren’t helping matters by putting the idea of having babies in our heads. While I’m as curious as the next girl there are certain things I am just not ready to go do and these old biddies are only fanning the hormonal fires.”  
Draco was quite literally spewing the orange colored juice from his nostrils, gasping like a dying fish with Harry slapping his back to get him to cough it all out. Neville had turned a new color of pink not seen on him before and Theo buried his face into the crook of his arm, snorting like a tickled piglet. Blaise simply tightened his lips and glanced upwards, refusing to meet anyone’s eye or say anything. All the girls giggled in a chorus of birdlike twittering that had Hermione shaking her head.

There were simply some things about purebloods she was never going to understand.

Neville diligently worked the strings of his ukulele each afternoon, sometimes having to wait until after dinner due to the copious amount of homework they accumulated in their final month of school, knowing that time off would have to be allotted for the tournament. Harry struggled to keep everything in order, no longer having either study buddy to stay up with him in the common room going over the usual subjects, Ron giving him the silent treatment and Hermione now in with her own. While he was happy for her to have taken hold of the resorting ceremony and her destiny into her own hands, a good chunk of him still selfishly wished she was by his side whenever he needed her-which felt like practically all the time when it came to these assignments. 

Dean and Seamus were willing to study, but they had followed in the icy path Ron carved when it came to socializing otherwise. So that only left him Neville, and as sad as he was to admit it, he hadn’t given the introvert pureblood much of a thought since first year as he was often embroiled in drama beyond his years. The turnabout came with the closeness of the wizard’s open courtship of Pansy and how he had been a supporter of Hermione’s involvement with Draco. It was solidified that day when he fed Ronald a knuckle sandwich in defense of a lady’s honor and hadn’t even given his hand a second thought as the twins hauled their brother away.

He realized then that he saw Neville in a whole new light then, one actually well deserving of being named a Gryffindor. Funny how it took the two of them disengaging from the pride and into the snake pit to see that, it was in due to Hermione’s magnetic pull, the cascading ripple effect of dominos falling in a path that both he and Longbottom had followed after, finding new loyalties beyond the house lines.

Theodore had informed him what Neville was planning for Pansy; it wasn’t that hard for the Slytherin to deduce with two other musically inclined students all suddenly spending time together. That, and Draco had in effect told both him and Blaise. Harry was about to ask him why he didn’t just make her a mixtape and then realized he was talking to a bunch of purebloods who barely had a grasp of the most basic of muggle devices if not for their exposure to them in Muggle Studies.

“What the flaming dragon dung is a mixtape?”

He suppressed a laugh and proceeded to explain the arduous process of listening to the radio, hitting record at just the right moment to capture the song, hit stop afterwards and then wait again for another song to follow up on it and hopefully not run out of the film by its end. Then of course, you had to write down all the songs you recorded and give it to the special someone with a note or card or something that expressed your feelings.

Draco and Theo looked perplexed but intrigued by the process. A lot of dedication was put into it, with precision timing and a mental calculation of the time left to work with and of course having the good taste to select such songs. The muggle version was not all that different from the wizarding in the respect of the nature of a way to show affection by means of music. Not that Harry had ever made a mixtape or received one but he was well aware of how it worked. Draco paid attention to every detail of the process, wishing that he had the means to acquire cassette tapes and their accompanying playing machine. But Hermione had the vinyl record machine and several of the black round disks to choose from. Unfortunately Potter couldn’t provide him an answer when he prodded for her favorite song and he didn’t want to pull Tracey away from her insistent help in her own task so he was left to forage on his own.

He did recall that Hermione told him it was fine to ask her anything he was curious about after the whole Shakespeare sonnet fiasco but as she knew of Neville’s plan, he suspected that the simplest indication of her musical preference would tip her off. Unless he was clever about it…

Finally managing to arrange a “study session” in the lab and have her be none the wiser was a touch of brilliance if he had to say so, especially since there were several other party members and he could start a healthy debate on what was considered good muggle music since they’d all had some exposure to it and therefore prompt Hermione into sharing what she considered top tier of her collection, and thus revealing the little golden nugget he so craved to discover.

Watching it all play out like he planned was both satisfactory as well as scary. He barely had to press upon the matter before Neville got all excited about Sonny & Cher and Theo shook his head and mentioned something about “Doors” and Potter rose to the challenge on his preference for Hootie and the Blowfish. Blaise listed The Smashing Pumpkins for their use of symphonic instrumentals and Pansy of course like the Beatles. Tracey was gaga for Bon Jovi, with Mils shrugging because she was still newly exposed to the icons but happened to favor The Goo Goo Dolls. The name alone had heads turning in her direction.

“What?” she said. “I didn’t name the band, I just like their music.”

Everyone then turned to Hermione, who had remained silent on the matter. Under the intensity of all their stares she smiled and nodded along. “Alright alright, those are some excellent bands. I think we all know that I’m partial to some with the band shirts I’ve worn but I don’t have too many of my current favorites because their music comes out on compact disks and this-” she patted at the antique machine beside her, “Is outdated even by muggle standards. The music I have is what my parents listened to, back then vinyl was the media trend, and nowadays we’re in the transition of cassette tape to CD. Even though a few artists will make it big, like Madonna, and put out vinyl records in limited quantity.”

“Who’s Madonna?” The Slytherin boys asked in unison, bringing the girls to giggle.

“Only like the biggest single female singer of this generation.” Tracey replied with a scoff. “When you’re known by only one name, that’s when you’ve made it big.”

“You still haven’t told us your favorite band.” Harry pointed out, to which Draco could’ve hugged the idiot so he wouldn’t have to voice his interest and rouse her suspicion.

She tilted her head off to the side in contemplation. “It really is so hard to point one out. I love the Spice Girls, The Cranberries, and U2. But all for different reasons.”

Draco sighed. He was gonna have to do it himself it he wanted the information. “Ok, well what of your records then?” he asked with a huff, trying to sound blasé with a little jut of his chin. “What over in your little….thing….” he gestured his hand wildly as the word slipped from his tongue, “Counts as your favorite?”

Taking the bait she turned her head and thumbed through her collection, consisting of The Beatles, Aerosmith, Fleetwood Mac, David Bowie, The Doors, Led Zeppelin, U2, Eurythmics, and Bryan Adams, among her musicals and classical instrumental movements. “Oh let’s see….I know you guys got a good earful out of these last week…Anyone give Stairway To Heaven a listen?”

One song had given way to another, and their study session had soon turned into an impromptu dance party. Millicent opted out as she protested she had all the grace of a three legged newborn hippogriff plus she knew how to work the machine as couples started pairing up. Neville respectfully inclined his head and offered his hand to Pansy, Draco did the same but had to add his own flourish with pulling Hermione in close and dipping her low, quite effectively sweeping her off her feet and thus making her clutch onto him. Blaise snagged Tracey’s wrist and twirled her up to meet him in a well-executed pirouette, leaving Theodore and Harry to awkwardly stand there and give each other a side eye glance in silence apprehension.

“I’m not dancing, so you two might as well.” Mils stated firmly with a dismissive wave of her hand, watching with rapt eyes as they turned to each and after a fumbling moment of both trying to lead, with Harry stepping on Theo’s foot, they finally found their rhythm with Theo gripping Harry’s hand and waist and sweeping him into the group.   
Well that played out rather nicely, she thought as she happily sat on the sidelines and watched the four couples move in motion. She had to admit that they made a cute couple, unorthodox to say the least but absolutely cute together.

Music was a wonderful thing, expressive in ways that simply speaking somehow couldn’t achieve. There was just something about the energy coursing through you as the melody swept through the air and the lyrics drummed into your ears and seeped into your bones as you could relate to the emotions being conveyed. And sometimes, it made an entire room of people disappear despite their proximity.

Harry could feel his palms begin to dampen with sweat as Theodore took hold of one and placed his own on his waist. “Here, let me lead. I’ve had more training.” he joked as he was gently lured onto the makeshift dancefloor, all their friends evenly spaced as the guys moved their female partners with ease. It was different for them though, as Harry couldn’t imagine twirling with the grace that Pansy made look so easy.

“Eyes on me Bolt.” Theo ordered, snapping his wandering gaze from her footwork and back onto his dance partner. Theo moved brilliantly, the years of obvious pureblood upbringing coming into play as he didn’t even need to look down at his feet, instead his posture was confident and strong, like Draco and Blaise’s and he felt like something three legged and wobbly as he tried counting steps to stay in tune.

Theo noticed of course. 

“Stop counting, stop thinking. Just move with me.” he instructed.

Everyone was dancing their own dance, Blaise twirling Tracey magnificently as the girl knew how to spin. Neville and Pansy were close and slow with perfectly timed movements and hands switching positions. Draco was in some kind of power play struggle with Hermione, trying to reign her in but she would deftly slip from his embrace and twirl away from him, effectively making him chase her, catch her, struggle to keep her wrapped in his arms before she did it again, both of them grinning ferally as they knew what the other was trying to accomplish without saying a word.

“We’ll make a dancer out of you yet Champion.” Theo teased, bringing up the memory of Harry having to participate in the opening dance during Yule Ball, with Parvati Patil on his arm. She had to remind him how and where to step as Cho’s silvery dressed often caught his peripheral and distracted from what he was supposed to focus on. He’d blundered like a complete arse that night never having gotten the dance moves properly memorized and spent most of the night being a wallflower with Ron.

And then Ron had to go blow up on Hermione, making her run off into some unused hallway to cry in private. 

He remembered how her smile fell, how her eyes glistened and how at loss for words she was from Ron’s accusation and he looked at his then-best friend with the filter down for the first time, truly seeing a spark of jealousy in the normally happy-go-lucky kid. He pulled on one the ridiculously ruffled sleeves of his horrendously ugly dress robes and told him he needed to apologize, that he couldn’t ruin her night like this.

And that was the start of it all, wasn’t it? Malfoy found her alone and whatever words they exchanged before Ron’s intrusion had made a lasting impact, and nothing following since had been normal. He risked a glance over at his best friend and person he arguably was enemies with and saw how happy they were together now that all pretense had been put aside. And without them being so bold as to make their affections known, he knew he’d never have become as close as he was with Theodore Nott as he was now.  
Close yes, and not just physically. There was something else that he couldn’t quite say. He let Theo extend his arm out and lead him into a spin, bringing his back against his chest on the first return, holding him there for just a sweet second, maybe one longer than he figured but was grateful for so he could get his feet placed properly without stepping on his foot again. Then he was being led away only to return into the agile grip, despite his left-handed nature he led the dance with nary a flaw.

He bet he looked like an owl-faced fool in comparison to the poise the brunet exuded, with his olive gaze never wavering, leading him with tiny reassuring nods and smiles, his artisan hands holding gently but firm-as he would with his paintbrush-and the way his hips would turn with every swish of his leg, how his torso would in effect turn and give just a tiny flare in opposition to his wooden stockiness. But his partner never criticized his lagging behind on the beat or leading with the wrong foot, he somehow compensated on the fly and they never lost stride. Even in the quiet in-between moment of one song to the next, Theo kept him moving, kept the rhythm going. After a while he felt like he was really starting to get the hang of things when Draco grabbed the both of them unexpectedly and pulled them towards the door in a rush, as everyone started scrambling to collect their assignments, having lost such track of time that they were already a few minutes behind curfew.

Harry and Neville were shoved together to go in their respective direction as the Slytherins were already huddled together and casting silencing charms on their shoes before starting to run. Their eyes met amidst the chaos, emerald and olive, silent and for a second, charged with something skin to electricity as Blaise waved an arm to signal for the All-Clear and Neville tugged on his sleeve, effectively breaking the spell.

In a daze, he barely heard anything his housemate said, just following his lead as they too cast silencing spells on their shoes and slipped through the hallways and up the several flights of stairs to the tower, huffing and puffing like exhausted marathoners and all but fell through the portrait door once they managed to spit out the password in a hoarse whisper.

They were hunched over, hands braced on thighs, gulping in breaths like they’d been submerged in the Black Lake and shared a look that became a smile that suddenly became a chuckle which led to full on laughter that stole what little breath they regained. Even when the sour-faced ginger slunk out of their dorm and crossed his arms with a displeased air and some pitiful attempt to rile them with a disparaging remark about their choice in friends, they were in too good of spirits to care or respond, simply walking past him and towards their beds with hearts light and heads full of pleasant dreams.

……………………………

By Friday Neville had reached a point where he had to admit his gallant effort might have been too much of an undertaking for him to handle at once.

“You’re not reaching the note here when you’re singing and playing simultaneously.” Tracey pointed out matter-of-factly.

“You think I don’t know that?” he snapped before raking his hands through his dark hair and exuding a sigh. “Trace, I literally just heard this song right before we started learning how to play it, and then you rewrote the tempo and I’m constantly battling myself to play it as you’ve written while remembering how it originally is and not try to bollocks it up while singing. Give me a break here.”

Mils tapped a high pitch key on the harpsichord to get both their attentions.

“I think the two of you need to combine forces by separating the elements.” She stated rather calmly. “As Tracey clearly has the vocal range and control to carry the melody and you have the strings well in hand it makes sense that you turn this into a duet.”

Both the Gryffindor boy and Slytherin girl exchanged a look.

“Trust me, Pans will love it either way.” Their pianist matchmaker insisted.

By Friday Draco had scoured through the inventory of Hermione’s records, giving each one a thorough look and recalling what songs he’d already heard and those he did not, trying to gage by title alone when lyrics weren’t provided. Which was bloody hard work. It boggled him that it was not standard with every album, especially if someone was listening to the music for the first time. He tried wrangling Harry into providing some insight but the green eyed numpty had very little to offer since his ever so lovely familial guardians limited his entertainment privileges and he often had to sneak listening to the radio in the evening on a volume barely above a whisper just to hear some damn music.  
Harry informed him that he only recently got his own actual bedroom. Draco had to shake his head and refrain from saying something about that family-though he was pretty certain Potter would wholeheartedly agree-but it was still not his place to say what he thought of them.

He sighed. He was just going to have to ask her. Because if he chose the wrong song then it was all over before he could begin. And he wanted it to be perfect. Striving for perfection was at least one Malfoy trait he could take pride in. A Malfoy only looked for the best, pursued the best, accepted the best, and did their best. 

By Friday another round of testing led to negative results had Hermione wanting to beat her head against the table.

“This has got to do SOMETHING.” She groaned. Neville gave a non-committal grunt with a nod as Draco rubbed a hand along her back. He knew she’d been busting her arse over this for far longer than he, it was her idea after all, and he was thrilled at the idea of discovering something-especially given Snape’s approval and the story he told in his lecture that got it all started. There had to be something that the combined extractions from their flowers did.

“Hermione, love, the probability is out there.” He reassured. “There is a plethora of potions we haven’t tried and we’ve barely scratched the surface. All this is is simply a process of elimination.”

“It’s been a month. Surely we would’ve found something reactive by now.” She pouted. She’d been so excited at the prospect of discovery, to prove to Snape that she was every bit a potioneer and rise to the challenge he presented her. Her pride simply would not stand for failure to meet it, regardless of results. Their flowers co-existing within the dome together was proof enough that the two were compatible ingredients to something more.

The Dragon’s Breath gently dragged a leafy palm over the thin stem of the Snowdrop as they stood there; looking over the list of basic standard potions they’d been applying their combined. The list contained the likes of Skele-gro, Blood Replenishing, Deflating Drought, Blemish Blitzer, Cough Potion, and even Everklena. It affected nothing, changed nothing, and gave no indication of reaction.

“Maybe it’s a nullifier?” Neville suggested, skimming over their notes. “The fact that we actually haven’t ingested any potions opens the possibility that we’re missing on an internal component that simply cannot be gaged by naked eye observations.”

Draco slowly rotated his head and looked at Neville like he’d just sprouted a third eye. “That is the single most intelligent thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

Hermione smacked his chest. “Be nice.” she hissed.

“I am!” he replied. “I truly am! What he said is fuc-er-freaking brilliant!” he corrected when she shot him a warning glance at his use of foul language. God, since when did he bother with such a thing like that? “He’s right; we never actually ingested or applied any potions to ourselves. What if that’s it?”

“Draco, I told you I was not going to permit human testing.” She warned. “I want a visual confirmation before I even contemplate taking that step. And then when and if it comes to that we will have to undergo supervision from Madam Pomfrey, Professor Snape, and Dumbledore, not to mention having a letter sent home to inform our parents.”

Ah yes, his father would definitely not approve of his only son and heir turning himself into a test subject at the risk of bodily harm.

“Hmmm, that does present a problem…”he begrudgingly agreed.

“So I’m guessing that means you won’t be testing it on Fire Protection Potion then?” Neville asked, glancing at the list of all the approved brews Snape had given them for being Fourth Years’.

“Only within the safety parameters of a controlled environment with superviso-”

“That’ll be a No, Longbottom.” Draco interrupted, not needing her to break into a long-winded reasoning.

“Why in the name of Godric’s Gonads did he even approve of Herbicide Potion?” he growled with a venomous tone. “The very basis of your testing involves plants!” The two watched as the Gryffindor grumbled and muttered his indignation at the parchment and took the liberty of scratching it off the list. “At least Hiccoughing Potion makes sense to have on here even if we’re not ingesting anything.” He went ahead and made more marks. “Nothing ingestible and nothing detrimental to our extraction sources….hold on a minute….” He pulled up the stool and sat down, going into Think Mode, talking more to himself than the couple.

“I think we should give him and that quill some room.” Draco said, steering her away from their lab table and over to the resident cushions that now surrounded the floor space by the record player.

“…..Madame Glossy's Silver Polish….”

Hermione had to bite back the urge to laugh as Longbottom asserted himself of the role of potion approver. She bet Pansy would’ve gotten a kick out of seeing him take charge.  
“Since we have a minute, I wanted to ask you something.” He began, turning her attention back unto himself.

“Sure, what is it?”

He had to remind himself to not make it sound so important else she would sense it. “When we were all talking about muggle music, you never actually gave a definitive answer…and well, as I’m trying to learn more about your culture, I wanted to know. I’m curious what makes one song stand out from the rest, what is considered a number one hit and who really showcases talent.”

“….Muffling Draught…hmm, that can be used on inanimate objects…that can stay…”

She absentmindedly ran a finger through some of her curls. “Well while music is the universal language, it is subject to a matter of personal opinion. Although what makes a top hit is based on sales and the popularity it gains by recorded plays on the radio. Most of the time a chart topper becomes that is because it checks all the basic requirements like having a memorable chorus, easily identifiable lyrics, an easy flowing rhyming pattern and the perfectly placed high note or excellently executed instrumental bridge. There are some artists that are just capable of producing that effect repeatedly and therefore remain a popular seller, even spanning generations.”

Normally, he would’ve rolled his eyes and scoffed at her tendency to give a history lesson rather than a basic answer, but he had to admit the information helped if he was to make an informative decision of his own. While he was a fan of The Weird Sisters and Celeste Warbeck, he had to admit that muggle music covered genres and situations not typically accepted in wizarding society. Truly, The Weird Sisters were pushing the envelope as it was and they were nothing compared to the painted faced band members of KISS or the bushy-haired, chest baring heartthrob that was Bon Jovi-Tracey’s opinion, not his!-and his curiosity had been piqued.

“It takes a lot of digging, just listening to things in general to develop a taste and know what you like, and even then you get surprised by something that comes out of another genre. But I truly enjoy lyrical storytelling, so the music I prefer comes from artists known for soulful performances, songs that tell a story, takes you somewhere beyond your current situation and has a display of instrumental prowess. Course, there are sometimes you just wanna dance and the words don’t matter but I haven’t had too many opportunities for that until recently.”

He smiled at that. “I think we should have more opportunities to dance. Once a week at the minimum.”

That brought a soft laugh out of her. “Oh you are insatiable.”

“Whatever it takes to get you in my arms.”

She rolled her eyes to avoid blushing. “Flirt.”

“…and then there’s Quodpot solution but why would you even want to stop that? That’s the whole point of the game….”

A second later she leaned over into him. “Tell you what, after our martial arts training and hanging out with our friends we’ll come back here and I’ll play you song from a movie I really like.”

“Yeah?” he leaned in towards her. “What kind of song is it?”

She flicked her tongue over her teeth in contemplation. “You could say…it’s a love song.” 

Ah perfect, he thought. “My dear witch, are you trying to seduce me?” he purred, taking hold of her hand and bringing it up to his lips. “Because if so, I am fully ready and willing to be subjected to your charms.”

“Alright lovebirds, I’ve revised your list and removed all unnecessary potions.” Neville announced, pulling them from their rose-tinted bubble of adoration. “And if we get nothing from this list then we’ll have to branch out to more complex solutions and see if the compounds might affect them. After all, most of these are only comprised of five ingredients or less and that might be the problem.”

Draco threw his head back. What a time for Longbottom to become invested in their project….

………………………..

SATURDAY May 20th, 1995

The week had felt unnaturally long; then again most of the student body felt that way with the upperclassmen starting their studies for OWLS and NEWTS. For the particular band of merry lions, snakes and eagles, it had dragged simply because of the plans having been made. The morning began as usual with breakfast and followed with an abbreviated lesson from Cho, guiding the boys and Hermione through their wand disarming and grapples. Even Cho had to admit, the boys were showing serious improvement, she just hoped they weren’t going to actively resort to using it. She trained them until lunch and took her leave of them afterwards to join up with Cedric and others in their study group to over what material they had in common despite their year difference. She already had a tightly planned schedule and was sticking to it. Had Neville not quietly asked for Hermione’s assistance in keeping his serenade a secret from Pansy until this afternoon she would’ve insisted they return to their martial arts practice like usual.

Hermione had remained tight-lipped, unaware that Neville had also confided in Draco, who mentioned it to Theo who in turn brought it up to Harry and thus began that whole conversation about mixtapes and thought throughout the whole week that she and the girls were the only ones aware of what he had planned. She provided a distraction so that Millicent could sneak her instrument out-even shrunk down to the size of a music box she still needed the extra measure-and had thought about offering her and Draco’s spot by the pond but since she’d already relinquished her lab to becoming the All-Purpose room she wanted something that was still just theirs, so she had thought long and hard and offered the rocky cluster of grassland by Hagrid’s pumpkin patch as a place to set up, with the medium sized boulders providing a natural seating arrangement.

She had to bite her tongue in Daphne’s presence, knowing that the two purebloods were friends-or at least friendly-and that had it not been for the blonde’s temper tantrum she might very well have been roommates with the girl and therefore be without the privacy her single dorm provided. Stolen moments with Draco for instance wouldn’t have happened otherwise…

Daphne seemed to have either lost her ire or was just playing along for the sake of general peace amidst the chaos of recent events. She had gone so far as to employ a somewhat polite compliment of her dress alteration for her Hogsmeade date two weeks prior. Stiffly, Hermione returned the gesture and chose to compliment her letter “D” pendant that she’d noticed reflecting the sunlight pouring in.

Taking pride in her little trinket, the girl held it up to show off the tiny engraved floral detailing all through the letter. Hermione had to admit, it was exceptional handiwork. Glancing upon it, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to wear one similar to it, perhaps engraved with a dragon to represent a special someone whose name also began with a D…

Just as she was beginning to worry that they were taking too long, she received the enchanted little note from Neville signaling that he was ready. It was then that she wished he could cast a fully corporeal Patronus and send a message like she and her boys were able to. Her boys? She had to hold back the gigglesnort building up in her throat at the thought of referring to the trio as hers but in a way, they kind of were. Draco certainly, Harry obviously, and by association Theo was too. She stood up from their seat on the bench, looped her arm through Pansy’s and suggested an outside stroll, to which Pansy arched a delicate dark brow and agreed, inviting Daphne to come along.

Hermione couldn’t very well refuse and as she started leading the girls she noticed that her darling boys were also heading in the same direction, although they had clearly been in their own huddle and not privy to their conversation. Was it possible Neville sent Harry a note too? She wasn’t terribly surprised at that, but then she noticed Padma was also pulling up alongside them as her twin sat with Lavender and glared when they passed them. 

Cows.

She flicked her hair in the haughty way Pansy had taught her and blatantly ignored them. For three and half years she tried getting on with them, listening to their insistent chatter, their hairbrained notions of who harbored crushes on who, their complaints that Arithmancy was too hard, and gagging when they sprayed too much bloody perfume on themselves for every Hogsmeade weekend. They were all atwitter and charming when they thought Draco was courting her, but the moment she changed Houses she suddenly was reviled and unworthy of their attentions. Ha! It was them who were unworthy of hers!

Draco suavely slipped in beside her and charmingly offered the escort three lovely ladies to their destination, which had her and Pansy snickering as Daphne looped her arm through his available one without missing a beat. Being the gentleman that he was, he knew it was far too public to make a scene and just smiled as if that had been his intent for her all along as he kept in stride.

Theo leaned over to Harry. “Still hasn’t learned….” He whispered.

“It’s obvious to everyone, how does she think she still has a chance?”

To that, he had no answer but kept his olive gaze trained on her hard enough that he hoped that she felt the tips of his irises poke into the back of her skull. If he had to make do on his promise to get his hands dirty he would. Like he could so easily forget what hell she’d brought upon Draco just little over a month ago. 

Even Hermione had to gasp at the little display Neville and the girls had arranged. Millicent chose a low sitting rock as her makeshift seat and had her harpsichord returned to full proper size, just tapping out an impromptu melody, warming the keys as Tracey looked to be gargling some water and spitting it behind another boulder. She was surprised that Padma had taken a seat, choosing to sit over by Blaise-she still hadn’t figured how that sorted itself out but was in no place to inquire-and that Ginny and Luna were already there on another rock. A few blankets had been spread out on the ground as there were not enough boulders to seat everyone.

Neville bounded up to them and gently relinquished Pansy from her arm, smiling warmly and leading her to her own assigned rock that had a blushing pink long stemmed rose sitting across it-that he’d forgotten to pick up in his haste to meet up with her-so he awkwardly handed it to her as he helped her take the seat, every bit the pureblood wizarding gentleman.

Hermione turned to Draco, who was disengaging his arm from Daphne and kindly pointing out an available boulder-clearly big enough for only one-and stepped over to her and took her hands in his own. “Come, I have a special spot for us.” He said, leading her to one of the arranged blankets.

“You knew?”

He chuckled. “What, you thought you were the only one? He needed some advice. As did I from him actually.” He confessed. From over his shoulder she saw Harry and Theo scramble over to the other blanket right beside their own. Then, as if they had appeared from thin air, she caught Fred and George perched on some the taller boulders like lurking gargoyles, but saw a basket between them. She was about to point them out when Draco pulled her chin away and back on him. “Shhh, don’t give it away.” He said.

Oh my god, this is becoming quite the production…

“Enjoy the show My Belle, you’re about to see how a pureblood courting actually goes.”

…………………………..

Ron glanced up from the edition of his Quidditch Monthly magazine to see yet another student rush out of the Great Hall like something interesting was going on and huffed. “What the bloody hell has everyone up and out today?”

“Maybe the fine spring weather?” Lavender suggested. She leaned over to Parvati. “Did your sister say where she was going?”

The Indian-Brit witch shook her head. “No. Maybe we should go see what the hullabaloo is?”

“Oh yes, let’s!” the blonde perked up, grabbing onto her boyfriend’s arm. “Come on Won-Won, let’s go see shall we?”

He rolled his eyes. So much for some bloody free time. But fine, it would be better to give in rather than hear her whine about it.

But when he saw the setup his stomach plummeted to his feet.  
…………………..


	66. Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neville serenades Pansy and gives her a Promise Ring.  
> Hands touch as the song plays.  
> Hands touch as a couple walks alongside a pond and willow.  
> Hands caress feathers and parchment and bodies.  
> This is a chapter just chock full of cheirophilia for all y’all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheirophilia is the name for the fetish with hands, or admiration of them.
> 
> Also, the cover of the song which inspired the courting scene:
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/track/4Fknl5coWTUwhBHuABw5lu

SATURDAY May 20th, 1995

To say that a courtship serenading was what he would find instead of something like a fight, was firstly, disappointing and secondly, suddenly shining a spotlight on himself that he certainly didn’t want. He knew that Lavender would demand the same of him, some sort of show of affection, some intention of feelings and frankly that was not what he had planned for at all. Lavender Brown was just a distraction from his troubles and had been for a few months, why make such a fuss?

Ever since the albino ferret declared Hermione his future wife he knew he was screwed. He didn’t have the wealth to compete, he didn’t have the stupid lessons in ballroom dancing and dining etiquette using four different spoons and he certainly didn’t have the means to get her stupidly fancy books, but he was the first pureblood wizard she’d met, and she’d made it clear that she’d wanted him to ask her to Yule, meaning she had wanted to be his witch. 

So she’d been taking the piss with him since, trying to humble him so he’d crawl and simper like some fucking Hufflepuff, he’d been trying to get Lavender off him long enough to speak with her and make her see just what she meant to him. Seeing her in the hospital bed had made it jarringly clear that she wasn’t as safe as she thought she was, that if she would only petition Snape to release her back to Gryffindor that everything would gradually fall back into place. Everyone would see that she was meant to be with them. Meant to be with him.

But Malfoy was not the kind of wizard to outright lie, nor back down from a challenge, not when he could happily gloat about his victory afterwards. So when he said that, he knew he meant it, and he’d follow through with it. Right now that idiot Longbottom was showboating, thinking he was something ever since that wanker decked him.  
Oh look at me and my stupid little guitar and my stupid little pureblood slag girlfriend, aren’t we such the picture of perfect pureblood courtship?

Bollocks, he couldn’t tear himself to leave even if he wanted to, not with Lavender hooking into his arm like the fucking holy terror Crookshanks as he noticed his own Merlin-damned brothers participating in the fiasco with a basket of fucking flower petals.

How cliché.

Lavender fawned while he wanted to throw up, especially when he saw Hermione lean back into Malfoy’s arms as he sat behind her, and Harry over with his new fucking best buddy Nott looking ever so damn chummy. The two best friends he had, and they both abandoned him for the company of vipers. It was an insult to injury, having Harry choose Hermione over him, choosing to align himself with Malfoy after everything he’d said and done to them.

And everything he was still doing.

He shouldn’t be touching Hermione, let alone be sitting with her….

Courting her.

Kissing her.

“Make Weasley jealous.” He had said. Well it certainly worked. A well-played game. He’d been cornered in a checkmate he didn’t see coming, never expecting her to take it as far as she had. Now she had that idiot actually convinced her feelings for him were genuine and he was going to truly adorn her finger with a ring just to shove it in his face that he had stolen away his witch. 

Flint, Crabbe, and Goyle had the right idea in Hogsmeade that day; only they should’ve dragged Malfoy off into an alley to avoid witnesses. He hasn’t happy with Flint hurting Hermione but the little witch needed a firm reminder of just what the company of reptiles brought. And if not for that along with Neville’s unwelcomed knuckles he wouldn’t have gotten to have that little moment in the infirmary either. So, a little good came of it.

When Professor Moody called him in for a private talk earlier that week he thought the former Auror was going to lay into him for his barely Acceptable grade and suggest he join in Hermione’s study group but it was refreshing when the old coot offered him a seat and said “I know how you feel.” The man spun a tale from his own youth of a love triangle where he was one of two wizards caught up with the same witch and the results hadn’t been pretty.

“Between you and me lad, we both know the girl is playing him. Just like she’s been playing you. Rumor has ita he’s planning to put a ring on her wee finger now, innit?”

He grit his teeth in confirmation.

“I see it in yer eye, she’s hurt ya bad. A bright lad like yerself has all the makings of a fine Auror and I’d hatah see yer grades slip all due to her meddling wit yer heart.”

Ron had sighed, forlorn and exhausted from keeping it all in. No other professors seemed to all that concerned when it came to his feelings, instead dishing out detention and extra homework rather than bringing him in like Moody had. Not even McGonagall, who’d always seemed so keen on his well-being before. Then again, he wasn’t chasing Potter’s robes any longer and everyone knew he was her favorite boy and Hermione the favorite girl. Without either one of those beside him he was no one special, just another Weasley, easily overlooked between the twins and the little princess.

Taking a sip of the tea Moody offered, he let his inhibitions go and told the Cyclopean professor just what he really thought of Hermione and Draco’s relationship, of Potter’s betrayal, of his own siblings obvious distance unless they were berating him for something he’d done. How Lavender was wanting more than he could afford to give in comparison to Hermione who never once had brought up his family’s monetary shortcomings until she’d flicked a galleon his way after tutoring a bunch of Slytherins. And while he still adored the girl he also hated her for what she had become. She needed to be taught a lesson.

“Soon lad, soon she shall.” Moody promised. “I shall tell you when the time is right.”

He’d left that meeting feeling far better than he had in weeks, feeling justice was about to served once and for all.

……………………………

With a perfectly offered hand to ease her down on the blanket, Hermione tucked her full length skirt in under herself and started to curl her legs in when Draco positioned himself to sit behind her, a leg stretched out on either side of hers with an arm sneaking around her waist and pulling her flush against his chest. They’d never sat like this before, so casual and intimate as well as public. Apparently emboldened by Neville’s public display of affection, he was no longer putting on any airs by taking every opportunity to touch her and have her close to him.

It was slightly possessive, but in the sweet way. After all, he was well-aware of how hard she could hit if she felt threatened. He gave her space when she requested it of him but made sure someone was still nearby for protection. She could only imagine how protective he’d become if her life was threatened outside of relative safety of the school and village. Out there in the real wizarding world where prejudices still ran strong and deep. Out there was uncharted territory.

He tried leaning in against her head but something hard kept poking against his cheek and temple until he couldn’t take it any longer and reared back, finding the colorful culprit nestled in her hair, a plastic butterfly clip clinging onto her curls. With quick hands he extracted the offending insect and dropped it into her lap.

“These darn things make it impossible for proper snuggling.” He stated rather primly. 

“Well excuse me.” she sniffed indignantly, bobbing her head alongside his. “I wasn’t aware we’d be sitting like this either.” In her defense, it was the honest truth. It was then that she noticed the thin silver chain on his wrist, and dangling from it was the Yin Yang charm she’d given him in the infirmary. Warmth pulsated in her chest that he was wearing the little trinket despite it not having any monetary value-the bracelet chain itself would be a few sickles easy-and she found that him being full of surprises was something realized she truly enjoyed. 

With a slow tempo, Millicent started the melody and Neville began the opening lyrics.

“Oh yeah, I'll tell you something  
I think you'll understand  
When I say that something  
I wanna hold your hand  
I wanna hold your hand  
I wanna hold your hand.”

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat at this new rendition of the classic she knew so well, finding the slower beat that turned it from pop song into ballad as Draco slide his fingers in between hers and nestled his chin at the juncture where her neck and collarbone met.

Neville then strummed the strings of his ukulele, continuing.

“Oh, please say to me  
You'll let me be your man  
And, please, say to me  
You'll let me hold your hand  
Now let me hold your hand  
I wanna hold your hand…”

Sitting side-by-side to Theo, Harry recognized the song after the first line, surprised at how well Neville and the girls had slowed it down, made it softer and easier to follow. He could actually take in the lyrics for what they were rather than the bippy tune always associated with it. Hearing Neville sing for the first time was also something he’d never expect from the relatively shy introvert but once again he’d grossly underestimated the kid. And to do so publically too-he knew he wouldn’t have the stones for that.  
He was bobbing his head along, swaying ever so slightly to the music and bumped against Theo’s arm, causing him to turn and meet his face. For a moment, he forgot to breathe. It was like that brief moment from the evening prior as everyone was rushing out of the lab, scrambling with their bags and supplies, checking the hall for Mr. Filch before making a break for it.

There was something there…

“And when I touch you I feel happy inside  
It's such a feeling that, my love  
I can't hide…”

Tracey came in on the under beat “I can't hide, I can't hiiiiiiiiide….”

Together in unison they blended their voices in harmonious marriage.

“Yeah, you got that something  
I think you'll understand  
When I say that something  
I wanna hold your hand  
I wanna hold your hand  
I wanna hold your hand…”

Rose petals began raining down from above, with just a little assistance with some carefully whispered directional spells so that they purposely fell on the heads of the audience, mainly to the girls’ hair. When one fell on Millicent she expertly flipped the twins the middle finger and tossed it off, continuing her work on the keys in stride, focusing on her bit in this whole endeavor. 

Tracey didn’t seem to mind the rose petals, continuing to carry the high notes and the softer back tones when Neville’s voice moved into the lead, quite pleased that Millie’s idea actually worked. Pansy was just drowning in rose petals and blushing cheeks, sitting poised and perfectly with a smile that might otherwise crack someone else’s jaw but was nothing but genuine on hers.

Hermione plucked a petal that had fallen on her chest and tickled the tip of Draco’s nose, just to feel him struggle not to sneeze. He turned further into her hair, burrowing his face in the bush of brown tresses, ticking her neck as he did. “I’m gonna get you for that.” He promised as she tried to not squirm in return.

Padma’s rich dark hair seemed to attract the bloody things, or maybe it was the intent of the twins’-after all the two could never resist a prank-and after huffing out a breath the eighth one she extracted Blaise quietly unpocketed his wand and aimed a stinging hex at a head of red hair. He missed, but it was a message well-received nonetheless and the abundance of petals suddenly found their way over the heads of their little sister and her blonde companion, as well as the lone sitting Daphne Greengrass.

The solo Slytherin girl had a mixture of emotions on her face, pleased with the performance and courtship of her friend with a decent pureblood match-well someone had to end up with Longbottom, and better Pansy than her-as well as the resigned irritation that Draco had snubbed her for the Mudblood. She had hoped enough time had passed since their little spat during Easter Hols and he would’ve confided in her as to what exactly he was doing with the pretender, hoping that all her playing nice would show him she was trustworthy enough to be in “the plan” that was obviously in the works. 

He certainly was laying it on thick, acting like a besotted twit.

“And when I touch you I feel happy inside  
It's such a feeling that, my love  
I can't hide, I can't hide, I can't hiiiiiiiiide  
Yeah, you got that something  
I think you'll understand….”

A petal slipped down the part in Harry’s hair and managed to tuck itself between the lenses and his eye, immediately making him freeze as he was half-blinded by a swatch of pink in an instant. His hands started coming up to remove them when he felt a familiar hand touch his and stop them in place. He felt the temples slide across the sides of his face as Theo carefully took the pair and the petal fell down his cheek and fluttered to the ground in a graceful twirl.

“Thanks.” Harry said softly so as not to disturb the serenading.

“I wanna hold your hand; I wanna hold your hand….”

“You’re welcome.” Theo replied, reluctantly bringing his hands away and back to himself when Harry picked up the petal that had caused the whole act and held it out to him. His fingers brushed lightly against Theo’s palm as he laid the floral bit into his hand. For just a brief second in time there was an intense rush of heat through his body and brain at the contact, wondering why he had even done other just than because he had wanted to. 

And all too quickly the moment passed with the ending of the song and the applause rebounding off all the boulders from their friends and classmates, a finale of rose petals raining from above as the twins joyously threw them into the air like drunken cupids on holiday, this time not caring where they landed. 

During the whole performance, Angelina had deftly and swiftly snapped the button of her camera in rapid fire succession until she was certain she wouldn’t be able to hold a quill properly come Monday, working in tandem with Colin from the other vantage point in a duel collaboration to cover the spectacular event from every angle so as not to miss a single opportune moment. And her focus was not solely on the serenading couple either.

She couldn’t wait to see what she and Colin captured this time.

It would be better than the Snitch on any day.

……………………….

The serenading was beautiful; Hermione had to admit that wizarding courtship was certainly a grand affair. Nothing was done in half-measures. It was admirable actually. She knew with Neville’s propensity for stumbling over his own tongue just trying to give Professor Snape a single one-word answer in class that his coming out with this brazenly tender act was almost like a rock star moment. And everyone would be gushing about it for weeks, if not the rest of the term. Girls would be sighing and the blokes would be trying to figure out how to meet the bar he’d just set or rise above it.

Pansy was being treated like a princess. Literally. If either one of the twins popped up with a crown she wouldn’t have been surprised, but alas, the wistful thought did not come to be. She happily held out her hand to him which he took gingerly and gave it a proper kiss upon her knuckles. Of course their little gathering adored it, and they gave applause of approval. Blaise whistled and clapped vigorously and Hermione couldn’t be sure for which party he was cheering on, in support of fellow Slytherin or lucky pureblood wizard?

She also noted that Padma beside him was not fluttering moon eyes over him, so perhaps they had not reached that point yet and were merely being friendly. Her guess was that in the time she and Draco had spent in the hospital wing the two had come to some sort of amicable understanding of each other-and quite possibly requiring an apology for that hair pulling stunt of his.

The thought hit her like a stone.

She’d been in the infirmary BECAUSE her hair had been pulled with the unseen damage it caused.

And it hadn’t escaped her that Blaise had shot at the petal throwing accomplices in this whole endeavor when they became too much for her rich ink-black hair to handle.  
He must’ve apologized and thus come into her good graces although still being held at arms’ length. Well, Padma wasn’t in Ravenclaw for nothing, she could deduce for herself if he was being genuine. Given how he laved such attention to her own she was beginning to wonder if all the Slytherin boys had a hair fetish. How often did Draco tease a curl or nestle in like it was a nest he could actually sleep in? And Theo….She’d seen him gently run his fingers through Harry’s constantly messy locks and be absolutely content.  
Yep. These boys certainly had a thing for hair. To each their own. Blaise liked long and straight, Draco liked her untamed ringlets and Theo…well, he just liked Harry. And Harry’s hair was always signaturely messy. Yet somehow the look worked for him, unlike Ron.

Bleh.

Just hearing his name in her own head put a bitter taste in her mouth.

She knew he wouldn’t have gone through the lengths Neville just displayed if he was courting her. That would’ve been too much work. Even if he couldn’t sing or play an instrument, he still wouldn’t have bothered to ask friends to help set it up. Not only did he lack culture but he lacked tact. At least Fred had somehow convinced Angelina he wasn’t a complete jokester and every time she saw them together he never insulted or teased her in the ways Ron had. Angelina would sigh at his silly jokes told in tandem with George, roll her eyes at the idea of another prank, but she was the voice of reason he needed when he was going too far. And he made her laugh until she snorted-to which she’d smack him-and they’d knock elbows and just smile warmly at each other.

So why couldn’t Ron follow his brother’s lead? And the others? What pearls of wisdom had Bill, Charlie, and Percy tried to bestow to the next in line? Hell, even Ginny exuded more grace in mannerism and body language, coming in not only support of her resorting but also with staunch loyalty to Luna, going so far as to now constantly sit at the Eagle’s table rather than her own.

Some unknown inclination urged her to disengage from Draco’s hold-not that he was in opposition, also applauding the performance-and managed to scoot just out of his lap enough to gaze over her right shoulder, surprised to see Parvati, Lavender, and Ron there, having apparently watched the whole the serenade.

And though Lavender was clutching his arm and had her head tilted on his shoulder his eyes shot cold chills down her spine. Brilliantly bright with a clarity she hadn’t seen in months, only now directed at her. Icy and dark, silently screaming in protest. She felt the gooseflesh rise on her arms and along the nape of her neck at that unfamiliar and unsettling glare, not realizing she’d gone completely frozen and unresponsive to Draco’s voice until he pulled her back up against him and laid an unabashedly affection kiss to her cheek that made Ron’s eye twitch. His warm embrace, his protective aura, and his whisper of encouragement gave her the strength to not shrink away but heighten her intensity in return, daring him to say something, do something as her boyfriend coiled his arms around her waist like well…a snake? A dragon?

Yes.

Definitely a dragon.

The visual pissing contest came to a halt when Lavender managed to pull him away and other students hopping off their boulders crossed into the path, breaking their contact. Right now nothing in the world felt safer than Draco’s hands on her. One on her hip and the other clasped in her palm. A gesture that read ‘I am yours as you are mine’ with his promised words floating down from her memory and wrapping around in her chest. It wasn’t until Ron’s back was exposed to them that he even loosened up, asking if she was alright.

“I’m fine…” she whispered but her voice was shaky.

“Go see the girls, I’ll meet you in a few.” He said, helping bring her to her feet and holding her hand until she was steady. 

Angelina and Colin managed to get a picture promised for the school paper before making themselves scarce, as were most of the other onlookers. Lunch was over and even though it was a Saturday there was still plenty of things people needed to do with their allotted day off. Study groups, homework, wandwork, detention duty…

“So,” Ginny piped up as she came to her side. “What did you think?”

Hermione honestly was pretty overwhelmed by it all. “I find reading about your pureblood customs and seeing it firsthand are two wildly different experiences.”

“Well you can’t learn everything from a book….I mean, someone had to go out and try it, fail, try again and learn how to before passing the knowledge along, right?” the little redhead shrugged.

“In that, you are absolutely correct.” She beamed. 

“Neville’s going to give her a promise ring after we all leave.” Luna stated, waving to Padma as she bid them all a parting. “It’s a far more intimate thing. Besides, a promise ring doesn’t have the same bonds as an engagement ring and therefore doesn’t require the preferential treatment.”

“Promise rings have bonds?” Hermione echoed.

Both Third Years’ nodded. “Yes, normally runes for Unity, Protection, Faithfulness. Harmless and nothing binding, heck, I could give one to Luna right now and it would be considered quite normal for us. It just means that if we were courting that it meant I was exclusively seeking her out and being serious. Other wizards can court plenty of witches at once, and vice versa. The rings are just markers really, showing the steps you’re taking with that particular person.”

Hermione stored that little nugget away. “But you’re young, younger than me and that would be allowed?”

“The wizarding world is small Hermione.” Luna replied in a somewhat somber tone. Too much war and industrialization and overpopulating of the muggle communities had dwindled the population and potential genepool-especially for those who wanted to maintain unbroken pureblood lines. “The selection is not what it used to be, and it is deep-set in tradition dating back hundreds of years. This is just how it’s done. And even us being allowed to choose our own courting partner is still relatively new, something that many of our grandparents had not the freedom to do. Especially the pureblood families.”

She nodded in acknowledgement to that. In feudal times, bloodlines meant everything. It meant the difference of who sat next on the throne, who led the next rebellion, and who passed on a hereditary trait highly sought after by many. However advanced the magical world was with the convenience of their spells and charms, they had unintentionally trapped themselves in a continuous loop of secluding their kind and passing on the old mindset and its perceived values that were now extremely outdated.  
Whoever had originally believed muggles and muggleborn children to possess dirty blood and come up with that God awful slur made sure it stuck, along with the idiotic belief that they’d somehow stolen the magic away and thus created Squibs had been convincing enough to make generations believe it despite having no physical proof at all. And no matter how ridiculous a notion was, if you were taught it young enough you believed it. Draco couldn’t be faulted for the way he was raised and what he originally believed, following the path that had been paved before him and was almost too steep to crawl out of.

But he’d been curious enough, stubborn enough, and intelligent enough to see the faults in that logic and pursue her, even though it was veiled under scorn and despisement. 

“But you need not worry,” Luna assured her quite resolutely. “You have an excellent partner in many regards. I’m sure I do not have to list all his fine attributes, after all you’re more acquainted with his mouth and hands-”

“Ok Luu, that’s enough.” Ginny reigned in, throwing a hand out in between the two witches. “Let’s NOT explore that avenue about Draco Malfoy.”

“Oh? Talking about me behind my back?” his mock indignant voice floated over. “How rude Little Red….tsk tsk.”

“It was actually me.” Luna interjected. “And I was about to list your positive traits but Ginny felt I overstepped my bounds.”

Hermione smiled weakly to concur. Draco inclined his head towards Ginny. “My apologies then. I fear I must steal this fine witch away, unless you actually intend to go through that list…”

“That won’t be necessary.” Hermione piped up, turning right into his offered arm. “Thank you girls.”

They waved her off before going their own way, as everyone was now dispersing, Neville and Pansy already quite a ways on their own path. She thought Draco would lead her back to the castle so the detour towards the willow and pond was a pleasant and unexpected joy. 

“Why are we here?”

“Because this is our spot.” He answered. He pulled his wand out and pointed it at the trunk of the young tree. With a well-practiced flick and incantation, the little disillusioned spell fell away, revealing their initials carved into the bark within a heart. “I admit, I had to have Potter’s help on this, making sure I got it just right. But he told me this was a muggle custom between courting couples.”

After seeing an example of pureblood courtship, it was all the more heartwarming to know he’d taken the time to learn a muggle one and execute it.

“I didn’t want you to see it until I was ready.” He said, tucking his wand back into his slacks. “It’s crude, but effective. For as long as this tree continues to stay rooted here and grow, our names will stay with it and everyone who walks by will know that this was where Draco Malfoy officially started to court Hermione Granger….students years from now will come here and stare at this tree like it’s a relic, because it will have marked a place in history…”

He turned and searched her face for confirmation, his fingers lightly brushing against hers as he made to take her hand but seemed hesitant at the last second.

For a moment, she was lost to everything except the tree before her. Still green in its youth and yet decades older than the two of them combined, it would see many students come and go, more shy stolen kisses, pebbles plunked into the ponds’ surface, more tears shed in silence from someone just wanting to be left alone, and perhaps earn more names carved into its skin.

And he wanted this be part of its legacy. Just the knowledge that the pureblood prince had chosen a no-name muggleborn and refused to hide it from the world.

“You’ll already be famous.” He continued the narration. “Being the Brightest Witch of Her Age. Being the Chimera. The first muggleborn integrated into the Slytherin house since its founding….Everyone will know who Hermione Jean Granger is. You’ll probably be a professor here, teaching Muggle Studies or Transfiguration before rallying advocacy for creature rights to the Wizengamot, stocked up with all the knowledge you’ve attained while teaching here and knocking some of those old farts off their chairs, shaming some of them so greatly they’ll have to retire to the countryside to avoid public scrutiny.” He chuckled at the merry little thought.

“And then to top it all off you’ll run for Minister of Magic-and win of course-which will give you leeway to fix an aging industry for a new generation.”

She listened as he weaved out a bright future before her. Deeds she could indeed do if she put her mind to it. Goals she wanted to meet and aspirations that were actually tangible in a reasonable amount of years. A good ten, fifteen year plan she could accomplish. Only, there was one factor missing…

“And where would you be during all this?” she whispered, still staring at the neatly carved DLM + HJG in the epidermis of the Salix Alba. 

“Wherever you want me.” he replied as if he already knew she would ask and had given the answer some thought beforehand.

At this, she pulled her gaze away and met his grey eyes. Soft and caring, warm despite how the color was usually associated with coolness. Such a vast difference from the piercing blue eyes that shook her barely ten minutes ago. These eyes that no longer lied, no longer hid, and no longer squinted with bitterness in her direction. “Where…where do you want to be?” she asked, her tongue feeling thick and useless.

“With you.” He softly trailed his index finger against hers, just the lightest of touches, eliciting a shiver through her. Two simple words and such there was such a vast implication of what that entailed. “Just with you. Standing beside you every step of the way. Helping in any manner I could. Because you’re a cause worth following. A witch worth fighting for.”

It was that last sentence that she immediately knew which song she wanted to play for him. She’d had two in mind, both from films, and both from artists she liked beyond their singular hit to the film’s soundtracks. But with a statement like that, she felt that perhaps it was time she was honest with herself in regards to her feelings for the boy in front of her. 

She placed her hand in his. “Keep that thought in mind for that song I promised you.”

“Which part?”

“The last one.”

He pulled her hand so that way he could lean in and nuzzle against her temple, remembering to stay on her right side as he had removed the butterfly clip from that side and she had tucked it in next to its companion on her left. “I’m not likely to forget that part. Not in the slightest.”

‘Goodness, he’s so affectionate! Like it’s been bottled up for so long that it can’t be contained anymore.’ she mused as she closed her eyes and took in the moment.

She had no idea just how close to the truth she was in that thought, allowing Draco to just breathe in her proximity and trail his fingers lightly down her arms. Like touching her gave him life. As if she was a refreshing summer rain after a long drought. 

“This doesn’t bother you, does it?” he asked timidly.

“No, why should it?”

“You’re standing so still. I thought I might’ve made you uncomfortable.”

She breathed out a whisper of a laugh. “No, not at all. If you just need to be like this, that’s fine.”

“I just…It just feels good, being next to you.” He breathed in deeply, the skin of her neck tickling as hairs brushed across. “And how you smell…so earthy and natural…you don’t hide behind perfume. Not like most girls do.”

“Well….girls tend be more self-cautious about themselves Draco…they don’t want to stink nor have others even think they do…”

He attentively rubbed his nose along her trapezius muscle. “It’s more than that. It’s like it goes beyond the olfactory sense….like…it’s your magical signature…”

At this, she did freeze. As far as she knew, humans were mainly incapable of detecting the magical signature in another unless in proximity of its use, not by other senses. Dobby said he could detect his magic because he smelled different from Harry, was it possible Draco could too? She rose on her toes and leaned into him, her hand bracing against his chest so she could test it for herself. She knew he smelled good-he always did-because he had an image to keep and maintained a rigorous hygienic schedule, but underneath the body wash and dab of cologne there was something else that didn’t register so much as a scent but…it tingled like magic.

“Well, now I know I’m completely barmy, standing with a girl just smelling each other.” He laughed, trying to ease the awkwardness he felt.

“It’s not strange.” She countered. “Mates identify each other by scent, and humans are no different. Hence why Amortentia appeals to each person individually with three distinct markers.”

He pulled back just enough to cup her chin and smile at her. “Trust you to already know about Sixth Year curriculum.”

“Look who’s calling the kettle black.” She quipped in return.

“Yeah well, I get bored easily. I have to do something creative or else I’m prone to get myself in trouble.”

“You made those Potter Stinks badges, and somehow charmed them to insult people even further if I tried correcting them!” she admonished, cursing his brilliant but easily bored mind.

“Course I did.” He admitted. “I had to get your attention somehow.”

She blinked. “What?”

He chuckled. “Oh come on, anyone could make some silly badges. Does Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare mean anything?” he teased, reminding her of her S.P.E.W. campaign she started earlier that year that ended in quite the failure to launch. “But I knew you’d try to turn them around, so I had to put in some crafty enchantments to do the opposite. Which would make you even more determined to undermine all my hard work.”

Her mouth fell open. “You….you prat!” she smacked his chest. “Oh you… that’s so mean!”

“It’s brilliant and you know it.” He declared, grabbing her hands. “Don’t tell me it didn’t make you think of me in some way?”

She nearly fell over. “Are you telling me you made them for the sole purpose of just trying to…to…”

“Now you’re getting it.” He grinned. “Everything I do-did-was to get you to think of me. Even after Yule, you were still giving me the cold shoulder. I couldn’t find a reason to get close to you like that again, and I worried you’d believe I jinxed the ladder that day in the library, but honestly…I just wanted…this….you, alone with me…”

She sighed before plunking her head against him. “God, you really are an idiot.”

“I know.” He agreed. “I did a lot of stupid shite just because it was the only way I could and it was effective. If it wasn’t for my father I would’ve been chasing after you back in first year, I never would’ve called you that word, and I wouldn’t have pushed for Buckbeak to be executed. Instead it would’ve been little poems and flowers and your favorite sweets and I would’ve asked you to Yule the moment after the announcement was made. I would’ve yelled it out loud in front of everyone too. You would’ve been mine long ago.”

“And you think it would’ve been that easy?”

A scoff escaped his throat. “Oh Merlin no. You wouldn’t have made it easy, you’d make me chase you and love it when I finally caught you. And you’d let yourself be caught when you were good and ready.”

She glanced back over at the tree, the heart and their initials and what it symbolized. What him doing that symbolized as well. Rebelling against tradition, his father, the social norm. Putting himself out there that he was more than what had been thought of him, of how he previously presented himself in opposition to how he wanted to be. Proving to the world that blood status was an outdated prejudice that had no basis. 

“Well, you’re at least right about that.” She gleefully concurred, extracting herself from his hold to approach the willow. With her hand running over the engravings she had to contain her smile. She was just brimming with the excitement of writing to her mother and telling her all of this. Her mother’s reaction to the moving photograph of her and Draco in the Great Hall was almost visceral, she could feel it in her mother’s heavy-handed, quickly scrawled response that she was practically jumping out of her seat, as if the ink itself could scream in girlish delight like a Howler.

Leaning her back against the trunk, palms flush against the bark, bottom resting on the top of them; she cast him a slow upward glance. “So, Draco Malfoy…do you think you’ve caught me?”

His posture, that had been relaxed and weighing more on one foot than the other, hands in his pockets and a neutral expression on his face, quickly changed to that of predatory animal having locked eyes on its targeted prey. One second and he had shifted into something else, his neck craned down just a touch, shoulders hunched, hands having slid from his pockets until only his thumbs were hooking into the opening, each step a calculated and precise placement in the few strides it took to reach her, his pace languid as he kept a hyper-vigilance on her posture for the slightest hint of movement.

She made no attempt to shift herself. Every step he took she watched as his eyes focused-eyes that could easily hunt down a speeding golden ball in mid-air-and was prepared for the last second jump from her. Which she refused to give him. Toe to toe and she still hadn’t moved. Knee to knee and yet she stayed. Chest to chest and all she did was breathe in. A hand came up, fingers gracing her cheek, tracing the line of her jaw, dipping in under her chin just to tilt her head back up ever so slightly.

“You want me to think I have.” He answered, watching as her throat bobbed with a swallow. Following the lines of blue veins, his finger carved a path of tickled flesh until he turned his palm and let his thumb rest lightly on her larynx, just to feel her pulse quicken and the gland bounce with another swallow. He’d actually never touched another’s neck like this before, knowing it was delicate-and sensitive. It was one thing to place his lips upon it, another entirely to have his hand where it rested now.

And he knew that if she truly felt threatened, she could have him flat on his back in an instant.

This was all part of the chase.

To see just how close he could get. How far she would trust him. How far he could trust himself.

Normally, a hand around anybody’s throat would be a valid reason to be afraid. Her body remained completely relaxed against the tree, her body weight pressing firmly upon her hands and keeping them trapped beneath. If she wanted to use them, she’d have to push forward just enough to release them and he’d back up immediately. She knew what it would look like to any unsuspecting passerby. She knew she looked to be in danger; cornered and dominated but the reality couldn’t have been further from the truth.

It was empowering, knowing she had him at her mercy, his eyes and mind curious as what move to make next, what she would allow. No rules spoken, but they were there. Unfortunately, neither one of them had played this game before, neither knowing the rules. But something inside her wanted to push a boundary.

“Eenie-meenie-minie-moe catch a tiger by its toe.” She lightly sang.

“I do believe I have this tiger by the throat.” He countered.

“Do you?” she challenged.

He knew then that she was testing it. Just to see if he would.

His thumb rubbed ever so softly against her voice box. Her eyes fluttered for a second. Closing. Mouth parted in anticipation of losing her breath. Daring him in the gentlest of ways, taking yet another unexpected turn. Just when he thought he had her pinned, she changed the rules. Unlike the time when Vincent Crabbe clamped his meaty palm and tried squeezing the life out of her, this moment was a different beast. It required a different beast. 

“Do you trust me?” he asked. Hell, hadn’t had asked that just a few days ago?

“I’m still here aren’t I?”

Oh how very Slytherin an answer.

“You could be luring me in…”

Her eyes were still closed, her mouth curved into a smile. “Course I’m luring you in…to see how far you’re willing to go…you’re a curious sort like myself…”

“Then look at me.” 

She felt a fluttering twist in her chest. Something almost like panic, yet relief in one. She was curious as to what she’d see, wondering if it was too much to bear. Her throat constricted with a swallow, knowing he felt every part of it. He could probably feel the little tremor vibrating throughout her entire being, the adrenaline of the unknown feeding the beast within that craved this excitement.

“Kiss me first.” She ordered.

She didn’t have to tell him twice. His lips descended upon hers a second later, cruelly gentle and feather-light, his other hand brushing hair aside as the other kept her firmly in place. Too gentlemanly gentle…

But he kept his end of the bargain up, so she had to concede and meet his eyes with her own, her breath halting at the sight of dilated pupils and flared nostrils as he looked ready to pounce. 

That was what she wanted. The beast that wanted to pounce.

“Draco…” she whispered in a sultry tone she didn’t know she could command, watching as his resolve began to crumble with a little growl in his throat.

“You shouldn’t…not like that…” he said, trying to stay in control.

“But that’s the point…” she pouted, feeling the inner beast somehow managing to say the things she normally wouldn’t. “Go on…didn’t you want to capture me?”

His resolve broke.

His fingers flexed against tender flesh, pausing her breath and capturing her lips with his own, his other hand roving at her hip, sneaking in under the hem and up her waist, tickling the skin as he pressed fully against her, this time pinning her hands in place with no chance of her retrieving them. Despite the pressure on her throat she groaned as he claimed her.

He knew he could squeeze harder, but the amount of pressure he applied was quite light, only enough to make her suck in air with a strong gasp as he eased up for that purpose before plunging back in with some strange sound coming from himself, like a hiss? No matter, he felt the blood rushing in his ears and his heart pound like nothing before, digging his nails into her side enough to make her cry out but with no indication that she was truly hurt.

Something strange and intense was happening, something primal and passionate as he nipped her throat, letting up with his other hand. Somehow, one of her hands managed to slip free and found its way into his hair, fingers digging into the snowy white locks as she pushed him against herself. Her hips ground against him and for the love of Merlin he loved it. Even though they were outside in broad daylight where anyone could see them, they acting like…animals.

Her other hand then freed itself, pressing into his back and digging in as she purred. Truly purred.

“How do you do that?” he asked, pressing his face up against her throat to feel the vibrating hum.

She was panting. “I don’t know.” Her hands started loosening her grip on him, a sign he took to follow suit.

After a moment of practically unhooking their claws from each other, his arm braced against the tree but had put some space between their bodies. She wiped her brow, moving hair from her face and then he saw it; the gold eyes.

“What the hell?” he sputtered; grabbing her face and bringing her closer so he could be certain he wasn’t imagining it. “Your eyes…”

She squeezed them shut.

“No, no open them, I need to see…” he begged, trying to find way to explain what he saw but when they opened they were normal once again. “Hermione…what’s going on…?”

She shook her head out of his grasp. “Nothing. I don’t know what you think you saw but I’m fine. I can see just fine...”

His brows wrinkled in concern and confusion. “It’s not about what you can see… It’s what I saw. And they were gold. They looked…like cat’s eyes…”

He thought he was imagining it, that moment when they caught Skeeter in the jar. A trick of the light. But that voice she spoke with, the way she had tilted her head, those weren’t the mannerisms he knew. It was something else.

A moment of silence passed and that awkward tension filled its quiet void.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

She smiled at him, placing a hand on his cheek. “Course not. I knew you wouldn’t.”

He was relieved but not entirely satisfied with her answer. “But you wanted me to…didn’t you?”

“No Draco, I didn’t want you to actually hurt me. I just wanted you to not treat me like I’m fragile.”

Fragile wouldn’t quite cover it, but he knew with her smaller stature she would be prone to sustain substantial injury-and she had, they both had just recently. But he had the feeling that was all he was going to get for an explanation from her. So he changed tactics.

“It probably was just a trick of the light; I don’t know…you doing that purr thing must’ve just made me imagine it.” He smirked just enough to sound almost convincing.  
“I guess so.” She shrugged. “I don’t know about you, but I’m thirsty as heck.”

Yeah.” He nodded, running a hand through his hair to maintain some kind of order to it. “I think we’ve spent enough time out in sun. A drink sounds lovely.”

…………………………..

The Great Hall was now being used as a place of quiet study as students cracked down on written assignments, the sounds of quills scratching against parchment replacing the usual din of hundreds of students’ voices. A few gathered at the end of one table was practicing some charm work; levitating objects, transfiguring, and various manipulations they needed to work on.

Draco and Hermione took what usually was designated as the Ravenclaw table, since most of Slytherin was used for the studious occupants-its position being on the far side of the wall made it the select place for those using it temporarily-and a moment later a house elf appeared. 

“A pot of tea please, and a plate of biscuits.” Hermione asked politely to which the diminutive creature inclined its head and popped right of sight.

Of course, all the elves were aware of the student who tried bringing awareness to their unfair treatment, even if she couldn’t free them all she at least wanted them treated with respect. It was no surprise really that when the tea service arrived that there was a decadent selection of fine quality sweets far above her request for a simple tin of biscuits.  
Maybe it wasn’t a huge movement, but S.P.E.W. had not been forgotten. Perhaps she could devote part of her summer studying up on the laws regarding Elfish ownership and the regulations of their contracts and create a stronger petition for proper treatment by the start of next year.

“I can already hear your brain at work.” He joked, setting down his cup. “Just so you know, most elves actually do like the security of being bound to a wizarding family. I mean you saw how devastated Winky was.”

“But the entire species has been enslaved.” She countered. “It’s one thing to be employed and still protected by a legal contract. It’s another when you’re being ordered to beat yourself with a table lamp because you spoke out of turn.”

He winced at the sharp undertone cutting through her arguing statement, knowing without names just whom it was being referred to. He actually never liked that his father took to punishing the elves in that manner, especially Dobby. Dobby had been almost like a friend and he knew the elf was happier living freely, helping take Winky under his wing in the ways of living life on their own terms.

“I agree.” He replied softly. “We do ask so much of them; it’s only fair they be treated with kindness and gratitude. And I know one day you’ll be the head of the movement that amends the laws regarding their treatment. For now it begins with polite words, in a few years they’ll be wearing clothes and living in their own little houses and having at least a day off.”

She pulled on her lip with her teeth. “And you’ll help with that?”

He didn’t hesitate for a second. “Absolutely.” He placed his hand over hers. 

They were quiet after that, nibbling away on the treats and washing it down with tea when Ulysses few in with a single envelope in his clutches, dropping it on the table before landing and tilting his large head at Draco, crooning in avian delight when he reached out and trailed a finger along his feathers. Watching the gentile manner in which Draco handled his bird made her realize it was this interaction that taught him how to softly touch her. After holding out a biscuit for him to nibble from, she tentatively reached out a hand and gave the bird a little attention.

“He’s like you.” She said as Draco tore open the envelope.

“How so?” he asked, eyes roving over the message with a smile forming from the corner of his mouth.

“Looks intimidating on the outside, but is secretly a sweetheart underneath.”

He glanced over the rim of the letter. “If you say that any louder I may have to Silence you…”

Her mouth quirked up into a daring grin, that gleam in her eye that spoke of a challenge. “Marshmallow.” She teased.

He pointed a finger at her. “Don’t….” he warned.

When she opened her mouth, a little wider this time, he panicked and cast the Silencio just as she held her hand up and a shield sprang forth. Ulysses took to the air as the resounding energy of the spells cast so quickly caused their teacups to fall over with a clatter.

A moment later they broke into laughter at having called each other’s bluff and successfully anticipating the other’s move.

“Come on, there’s something I have for you.”

Hermione made sure the cups were uprighted before they left, neatly stacked to be taken away.

She wasn’t expecting the Owlery, but then again her day so far had been anything from what she initially planned and knew that with Draco at the helm it would continue to be so. Just going with the flow, she stopped when signaled her to as he held out the letter and looked around for something until his eyes rested on the large white owl Ulysses had perched next to, almost as large as him, with feather tuffs just like his own.

It was another Eurasian Eagle Owl, adorned in a dappled grey, cream and white coat of feathers and eyes large and bright orange like a ripe pumpkin. Slipping his hand into the handling glove, he reached out and called out “Penelope!” 

The bird gracefully swooped down and landed, remaining in place as Draco turned around and presented the bird to her. “This, is for you.”

She felt her jaw pop open. “You didn’t!” she gasped.

In response he merely chuckled. “I actually didn’t. It was Mother’s doing as I informed her you didn’t have one of your own. So in the letter I got from her this Sunday she told me of her plan. My only request was that she be named Penelope. Like the w-”

“Wife of Ulysses.” Hermione murmured, knowing her Greek mythology.

He pointed his finger at her in a ‘you got it’ motion. “Say hello to your own personal messenger owl. She’s been trained and registered and all you have to do is give her a signal to answer to and she’ll come to you. That…and the…you know, the finger prick…” he added, face going a little red at how terribly he handled it the first time around.

“Now that I know, it won’t be a problem.” She said, offering her hand. Penelope sniffed the palm and nuzzled her head along her knuckles, learning her scent and understanding this was to be her new owner. She clicked her beak a few times, as Ulysses had, and Hermione braced herself for the sharp sting as the bird nipped her finger. Being forewarned certainly made a difference in how she received the pain, and before she knew it, it had already subsided into a dull throb before Draco handed her a glove and then transferred the bird over to her.

There she was, in all her creamy white feathered glory, her very own owl.

“My mother has a great eye for aesthetics and figured you needed a bird with a striking coloring in comparison to the many here.” He trailed a finger down the birds’ head and her back, getting her to open her wings. “You’ll soon be able to spot her anywhere amongst a crowd.”

“She’s absolutely lovely.”

“She would have to be, being perched on your arm.”

She rolled her eyes. Shameless flatterer.

“I want to draw this.” He said suddenly, with a voice struck with inspiration. “The two of you together…absolutely beautiful.”

“Really? Now?”

“Yes. We can listen to music later. I have to capture this.”

Hearing the beg in his voice finally made her cave in, how could she say No when his eyes lit up like that? Whatever it was he was imagining was coursing through his mind like a runaway train and if he didn’t get it out he’d combust. So she followed his lead as held open the door of the Owlery and suggested heading up to the Astronomy tower since it was closer than taking the stairs all the way down to have a scenic spot. He accio’d for his art supplies, practically hopping until the sketchbook and pencils flew into his impatient hands and then nearly skipped his merry way to the tower as she walked carefully with her new acquisition.

She wondered if she’d be able to write a thank you letter to Narcissa without the risk of Lucius finding out. It now made the second gift she had received from the woman, the first being a kind gesture from a mother who wanted her son to make a good impression, this one being more of a practical nature. But a gift was still a gift and protocol demanded a show of gratitude. 

Draco took a look around and settled on a corner that had the sunlight peering in off to the side, from over his shoulder where he positioned himself so that way she was highlighted but not blinded by the light showcasing her. She took a stance, holding Penelope aloft.

“What I’m going to do is just get the preliminary sketch done, focusing more on your pose so you won’t tire out holding her. I’d like to do a few, if you don’t mind.” He informed her as he undid the cuffs to his shirt and started folding back his sleeves. Then he pulled out his glasses and she noticed just the slight flush that crept up his neck as he remembered what happened the first time he put them on in her presence.

She acquiesced, standing still and watching him work, completely raw and unfiltered as he hunched in over his sketchpad and furiously erased only to redraw a line in the exact same place, flick hair out of his face, mutter something to himself as he cocked his head and turned the page to get a different perspective, crossing one leg over the other and then setting it down then crossing it back over again.

He was unhindered by the rigid posture and proper artistic stance that he’d no doubt been trained with, coiling around his pad and scribbling feverishly away with the Muses’ blessing, doing it his way as he often changed his position from standing to squatting, even pacing a few step and tilting his head to take in the curve of her form. Even in this state, he was confident and intense, his eyes locked onto her when he needed to take in the scene, then fiercely dedicated to the paper as his hand moved in motion. She watched as his eyes would express themselves so vividly, his eyebrows furrowing low, arching, and bouncing along to the mental dialogue undoubtedly taking place within. He was critiquing his work as he went along and he hadn’t even moved to the inking or the colored ones.

An absolute perfectionist.

It was easy to stand and pose when she had such a captivating artist to focus on, she the statue and he the crafter. He was Pygmalion and she Galatea, watching as he brought her to life on paper, ever so dedicated to his urge to create. How a simple series of graphite lines dragged along parchment soon gave way to something recognizable and loveable. She remained silent, so quiet she could hear the little noises he made, a grunt of disapproval, a satisfied hum, a little catch in his breath when something came together so perfectly.

The sun stretched a few inches across the sky, basking her in golden light and ever so subtly changing the play of shadows along her form. And still he drew, flipping onto yet another page, eyes flicking up from the paper for a second to confirm and then drop back down to continue working his magic in a purely muggle fashion.

After a while she had stopped posing. He hadn’t even noticed, or indicated he had as he continued stroke after stroke to the sketchbook. Hermione released Penelope to let her fly and stretch her wings. He had not looked up. She risked ever so subtly changing her position, moving quietly and it still didn’t grab his attention away. He had fallen into the abyss and now there was no escape, the Muses’ hold was too strong. She wondered if this was how she looked to him when deep in her books, scribbling notes and absorbing information like a dying fish to water. How the world faded away and all noise ceased except the thoughts in her head and the words she read. How many times had she missed his eyes caressing over her form in the library simply because she was studying? So many of the drawings she had seen were of her just doing that, perhaps the only time her guard was down around him because they were in a “safe zone” where a single hiss between them would have Madam Pince bearing down on them?

His hands-the ones she had once assumed too silky and pampered to have ever known a hard day’s work-drew her eye as she observed how one would carefully hold the sketchpad so as not to accidentally dig his nail into the paper, yet strong enough so it wouldn’t slip as the other hand worked in motion, first with the dramatic sweeps and repeating swoops, but now slowly pouring detailed attention to a particular spot, as a meticulous potioneer watching for the subtle change in his cauldron. 

She could feel her defenses slip away as her feet shuffled their way towards him at a snail’s pace. All while he would adjust his glasses and shift more onto one side of his bum in the lone bench the tower provided, making a noncommittal ‘mmm hmm’ with a slight nod, continuing to swirl his pencil in place. All the while, she stalked closer. 

Nothing but graphite scratching against parchment.

Rubber soles gliding over stone tiles.

A whoosh of breath.

A breath held.

The soft spring breeze.

Parchment rustling as a hand shifted.

A hiss and wince as his wrist cramped but still he continued drawing.

Rubber soles rising on tiptoes to peer over his shoulder, making sure she didn’t step into the light.

Finally a sigh escaped him, his eyes closed as he rested his head against the wall, shaking out his hand. He hadn’t felt such a rush of inspiration like that in ages. He had thrown himself so fully into it that nothing else mattered except fleshing out that piece, capturing the flow of her hair and the folds of her skirt. The sight of Hermione Granger holding that beautiful owl, something so utterly normal and yet…not….

He felt the sunlight leave his face, the darkness clouding over the red tint of light behind his eyelids as his beloved book was gently pried from his cramping hands. He began to protest until an angelic voice shushed him, a finger pressed to his lips as the sketchbook was set beside him. Suddenly he remembered that she had been there the whole time, standing silently and patiently as he worked, slipping into his groove and mercy to his own urgency.

“Sorry…” he said, eyes still closed as her fingers ran through his hair. He widened his thighs for her to stand flush against the bench, then rested his hands right above the back of her knees as she leaned a little further in.

“I liked watching you.” She confessed and he felt his entire being flush with warmth. “I liked seeing you without any restraint. Completely free from judgement or scrutiny.”

His teeth dug into his lip, loving her words. Still afraid to open his eyes to what he might find.

“I think I now know…what you meant…” she continued in that butterfly-soft whisper as her hands gently removed his glasses and tucked them into his shirt pocket.

“Yeah…?” he prompted.

“Look at me.” she commanded in that same kind requesting tone, echoing his words when he had her pinned at the willow tree.

“Kiss me first.” He challenged, taking every bit of his self-control to not break into a grin and lose his cool. He wanted to know how she looked right now, but it might very well be the last thing he’d ever see, wondering how his heart was still contained in his chest with how wildly it was beating.

Her hands felt tiny and soft as they trailed along his jawline, pulling him in away from the wall. His head was already tilted back so she could have to lean down to him for once-which he actually liked the switch-and tightened his grip onto her legs. He might be feeling a touch vulnerable but that didn’t stop him from taking control over something to help him feel grounded. Just something to keep him anchored else he might be tempted to flee. Every second that passed felt like torture, what was she waiting for? What was she searching him for? Could she tell how he felt ready to combust if she didn’t do something? He didn’t even know why he felt like this, they’d kissed plenty of times.

His face looked so different like this, from this angle. She’d never actually had the opportunity to look down at him-and being on the stairwell in the halls didn’t count-and see how adorably angelic he was. Honestly, it was not fair. He won too many genetic lotteries with his parents’ union. He was the kind of bloke that would turn both witches and wizards’ heads if he so much as glanced in their direction while they’d willingly stomp over her just to breathe in his proximity.

“You really are quite lovely.” She confessed, watching his Adams’ apple bob with a swallow and nervous smile. “I should be drawing you.”

“Hermione…” he whined, begging her to spare him.

She was glad for the extra inches her Doc Martens provided, taking in this moment to her advantage. One finger trailed along his throat, feeling it throb under her touch. There was a little noise in his throat that told her he couldn’t hold out much longer. She could just hear the unspoken word hanging on the tip of his tongue.

Please.

Deciding that she’d ruffled him enough, she merely dipped her head down and just softly brushed her top lip against his bottom, then up until it met with his top, bringing her bottom lip to meet his as her hands angled his head to a degree and she felt his hands slide up the back of her thighs, so used to being able to pull her in. It was a gentle kiss, closed mouthed but slowly progressing to partially open with her taking the lead. There was no need to push at each other and fight for dominance, no need to see how far the other was willing to go, they’d already played that game once today.

His lips still retained a hint of the chocolate biscuits from their afternoon tea and it was just the right amount of sweetness, mixed with the heady scent she’d picked up out on the grounds, wondering if his signatures would be detected if she ever got to smell Amortentia. His hands had somehow found their way up her thighs and were resting on her hips, and before she knew it, he’d tightened his grip and pulled her down into his lap, deftly wrapping his arms snug around her and breaking their kiss to rest his face in the juncture of her neck.

She thought he was trying to take control, but the instant he separated from their kiss her eyes shot open and for a split second she saw fear register in his eyes before he burrowed his face into hiding. With his arms wrapped around she could feel him tremble and knew something troubled him, and it wasn’t because of their kiss. So she ran fingers through his hair and rested her arm against his back as he fought an internal battle. Honestly, he was always at war with something, someone, it was a wonder he managed to look so composed during class.

“Draco…is this something you can tell me?” she asked after a minute of silence.

“I should.” He said against her skin. “There’s something I have to tell you. And something I want to tell you. But you’ll probably only believe one of them.”  
……………………………….


	67. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s time Draco comes forward about Luna’s vision, or is it?
> 
> The truth about their plants….and their feelings…..revealed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feature song: Everything I Do (I Do It For You) by Bryan Adams

SATURDAY May 20th, 1995

A quandary then. Which should she ask him for? The one he wants to tell her or the one he believes he should? What could he say that might not be believable? 

“And you can’t tell me both?” she pursued the easiest route first.

He shook his head.

“And I take it; I may not like what I hear?”

He nodded.

“You’re afraid if you tell me the one, you may not get to tell the other?”

“Uh huh.”

“Is there anyone else that can tell me this thing which I ought to know?”

His breath caught in his throat for a second before he resigned to another nod.

“Then that settles it.” She said matter-of-factly. “I’ll have that person tell me. It is someone I trust, right?”

“Yes.”

“So why would there be a reason for me to not believe them, or you?”

He sighed. This was it. He was going to have to let the boggart out of the bag and let her come to the conclusion herself on it.

“Because you don’t believe in Divination.”

A pause of silence came afterwards, then a sigh. “Ah, that old chestnut.” she replied in a thoughtful tone. “The paradox of which to believe? This trusted source or the subject I’ve proclaimed is a load of hogwash? Because believing either makes me a liar in some regard.”

Bloody stubborn witch, he thought. So analytical.

“The real question is, do you believe what this person had to say?” she inquired of him.

Damn clever bloody stubborn witch.

“This isn’t about me.” he deflected.

“Are you saying that what they had to say isn’t important enough for you to care or is not important for me to bother with?”

He groaned. “For Merlin’s sake Granger stop beating me with your inquisition and just believe that what she has to say is important!”

“So it’s a she…”

He rolled his eyes.

“You’re killing me here. I’m trying to find the best way to go about this without mucking it up because I’ll only get one chance to say it right and you are taking me ‘round the bend.”

She smirked at him, causing a dimple to form in one cheek. “Actually, my line of questioning was my way of separating you from the one you didn’t want to have to tell me, so you can tell me the one you want and it not impact the other. If you’d like to say what you like right now and then I go to this other person and hear what they have to say it should still not affect what you tell me, right?”

He hung his head, utterly defeated by her logic. “In theory, yes. But I can’t just say what I want to say after this little bout you’ve put me through. And if you go see her first then you won’t be in the right mood to hear what I have to say.”

“So now it’s a waiting game?” she teased.

“Of sorts.” He sighed, leaning on her shoulder. “At least now I know you’re willing to listen. That puts part of me at ease.”

“And what about the other part?”

He considered her inquiry and knew right now he was yet ready to leave the tower, knowing that if they did they’d be going to the lab and she’d dig through her records for the song she wanted him to hear. Not after the moment that just happened, he couldn’t trust himself to sound confident enough and what he needed was absolute confidence in what he wanted to ask of her.

“Just sit with me.” he said, needing a moment to get his bearings.  
…………………………..

“You’re full of surprises Neville Longbottom.” Pansy said when they managed to get away from the cluster of boulders and Hagrid’s pumpkin patch. One hand twiddled the rose he gave her and the other was entwined in his. “To think you’ve been hiding that lovely singing voice and musical skills all these years…”

“Oh come on, you know everyone would’ve teased me into an early grave if they knew.”

She had to give him that. But then again her friends also kept their talents close to the chest. Self-preservation was the Slytherin way after all. If no one knew about it, it couldn’t be used against you. It was a sad fact that many a business started by a Slytherin was mainly used as a front to explore their secret talent, often crediting some pseudo name transfigured version of themselves who rarely made appearances once earning a bit of a reputation. It was one of the things her mother whispered in confidence to her when she expressed her desire to become a fashion designer for both the magical and muggle community.

It was her mother’s way of saying ‘I won’t try to stop you but you must not let it be known that a pureblood socialite heiress of the sacred 28 actually WORKS for a living instead of just hiring some no-faced talent’. It would be the only encouragement she would get. After a while Pansy stopped bringing it up in conversation and letters, instead turning her attention to the one thing her mother truly wanted her to focus on: Boys.

Well, she could check that off the list now. Neville was the epitome of a gentleman and she could not be happier. His families’ place on the social ladder matter not a whit to her-as if anyone could compare to the glory of the Malfoy estate, yeah yeah, we’ve heard it all before-and him being a Gryffindor meant the social elite community better get used to seeing some red at their galas. Because she was going to rock it. Crimson, scarlet, rose, maroon, ruby, blood…all trimmed and accentuated with gleaming polished gold. With her dark hair it would pop. She would invoke that film noir aesthetic Hermione and Tracey had told her about and shown her in cinema themed magazines and books.  
“I’m sorry I had to lie about it.” He continued. “And I shan’t be making a habit of doing that, just so you know.”

She chuckled along with him, admiring his candid honesty even more. He was nothing like Draco-and Bless Hermione for being able to see past all those flags and fences and farces of his to the boy underneath it all-and for once felt like she had accomplished something even her mother couldn’t be too upset about. And if she was being completely honest, it didn’t matter what his blood status was. If Draco could still have true feelings for Hermione even after discovering hers, then she could set that aside to get to know the person for whom they really were.

Potter wasn’t all that bad actually. He and Theo caught on like a house on fire and it was wonderful seeing Blaise and Tracey on the wing of a few eagles. And she knew none of it would have happened had Hermione and Draco not come together. If those two could then what was holding everyone back? Absolutely nothing as it would appear. The school paper was running what could easily be mistaken for a late Valentine’s Day special with all the latest gossip focusing on the sudden abundance of inter-house couples.  
“As long as that’s the only reason you do, I suppose I can forgive any future transgressions.”

“Forgiven already?” he laughed. “And I haven’t even begun to think up any…” 

Their hands swung as they walked, his large and calloused, hers tiny and soft with well-manicured nails. A princess and a pauper but happily together. Unlike other couples of note, they actually preferred quiet walks, listening to nothing but nature around them. Birds chirping, the crunch of grass under their shoes, the whistle of the breeze and the tranquility that it all brought. What more did you need on a walk?

They reached a copse of trees when Neville brought her to a stop and let out a nervous breath. “Pansy, with you, I feel like I can do anything.” He said. “I wouldn’t have been able to sing-let alone in front of a crowd-and even bring out my ukulele. You don’t judge me like most everyone and because of that; I feel like I can be what I want to be.”

She nibbled her lip in a shy smile. “And what do you want to be?”

“Just a decent wizard, for now.” He replied with hope in his voice. “And then maybe one day a great one.”

“You’re a Gryffindor for a reason Nev. Of course you’ll be a great wizard. One I can be proud to call my boyfriend.” She reached up and cupped his cheek. 

“Well then, I better not waste any more time.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a little box. “I had to wait for Gran to retrieve it from the family vault. She can’t wait to meet you.”

“I’m looking forward to it as well. She sounds like an absolute dear. And your parents? Will I be able to see them?”

He smiled sadly. “They’re permanent residents at St. Mungo’s. You don’t want to go there.”

She placed her other hand on the side of his face and brought his head down so they were eye level. “Neville Longbottom, your family will become my family. Even broken, they’re still a part of you and your life. And thus, my life. There is nothing to be ashamed of.”

He pulled her in close and placed a kiss on her forehead. “You’re an angel.”  
……………………………….

Hermione took Draco by the hand and pulled him to his feet and led him through the corridors up to their lab, not even allowing him to detour to set his art supplies back in his room-as that was only not out of the way but would in fact take longer than just going straight to their lab in the first place. She noticed a reluctance in him that was beginning to eat away at her nerves, wondering if after seeing that serenade he was having second thoughts about his relationship with her.

Even though it was something she had prepared for, it didn’t ease the pain growing with every step.

Once inside with the door closed, she wrung her hands together and inhaled deeply. “Draco…was today…too much?”

“What? No. Course not.” He came up and took her hands. “Hermione, don’t even let your mind go there…I’m not ending anything, in fact, that’s the very opposite of what I want to do.”

“Oh…it’s just that…I don’t know…” she sighed. “I just…you’re not acting like your usual self…”

He let out a little chuckle and leaned his forehead against hers. “Am I not allowed to be nervous?”

A relieved breath escaped her. So he wasn’t going to try to let her down easy. Why would he when he’d just given her an owl and kissed her the way he had by the tree he marked as theirs and had drawn several pictures of her? It made no sense. She mentally berated herself for being so silly. When did she start letting herself get carried away by the smallest of nuances? Bloody hormones, they did no favors for the growing mind.

She switched their hands so now she was the one holding onto his and spun him in a circle. “Don’t you think it’s I who should be nervous? After all…the song I have in mind…maybe it might give you the wrong impression…”

“Darling, I want to hear it. I want to know what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling, especially when I’m involved in it. I want to know what I inspire in you.”

She tucked her bottom lip inward as she smiled at him, bolstered with a touch more confidence than she had a mere few seconds ago. Did he even know he could do that with just a few words? The boy who used to tear her down, now building her up so effortlessly? Amazing how so much could change in such a short time. She tried to not let herself get carried away as she thumbed through her records, selecting Bryan Adams’ Waking Up The Neighbors. Her mother had always been a fan of the Canadian singer and bought the album shortly after its release back in ’91 but it wasn’t until the one particular song was featured as the official hit to the film Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves that she finally could appreciate the musician and his other notable works. 

But this song had resonated with her for some reason.

Six and a half minutes of the deepest declaration of love she’d ever heard, that made her actually believe it was possible to feel that way and not just for the sake of making money off a well-used trope to string together pretty words. The song told a story in itself, but once paired with the classic hero and his lady love it made so much more sense. Every time she heard it she could just picture scenes from the movie-or even other movies-and play them in her head like her own personal music video.

Counting the ring lines, she was able to set the pin towards the end of the eleventh song on the record, giving her time to prepare for the designated song coming right after. Coming up to Draco she took his hands and held them nervously. 

“Is this a dancing song?” he asked, watching her movements.

“It can be…it is six minutes long, and there’s a part where you think it ends but it’s just an extended pause.”

“Thanks for the warning.” He laughed, taking her hands and placing them in position, one on his shoulder and the other held delicately within his own. “So, is there anything I should pay special attention to? Other than you?”

“Shameless flirt.” She snickered. “Just ah…remember I said I like lyrical storytelling. You don’t have to take it word-for-word.” 

“You know, I’m not opposed to hearing ‘I love you’ in a song.” He informed her as he steered her into first position as the track switched to the next one and her song began. At first she tensed up as if she were petrified all over again, until Draco managed to coax her with a little swaying. Then her feet started to move.

Look into my eyes  
You will see  
What you mean to me  
Search your heart  
Search your soul  
And when you find me there  
You'll search no more

Already he was liking this.

Don't tell me it's not worth tryin' for  
You can't tell me it's not worth dyin' for  
You know it's true  
Everything I do  
I do it for you

He led her into a simple waltz, with her mostly looking at her feet or slightly over his shoulder, worrying her lip the whole time.

Look into your heart  
You will find  
There's nothin' there to hide  
Take me as I am  
Take my life  
I would give it all  
I would sacrifice

He was amazed at how well the song encapsulated his own feelings, let alone what she was trying to convey. So likeminded it was scary.

Don't tell me it's not worth fightin' for  
I can't help it, there's nothin' I want more  
You know it's true  
Everything I do  
I do it for you

Ah, hadn’t he said that, almost exact line? Everything I do, I do it for you? That she was worth fighting for?

There's no love  
Like your love  
And no other  
Could give more love  
There's nowhere  
Unless you're there  
All the time  
All the way, yeah

Then came a brief musical interlude with the piano and guitar dancing in tandem, a beautiful combination if he ever had to say.

Look into your heart, baby  
Oh, you can't tell me it's not worth tryin' for  
I can't help it, there's nothin' I want more  
Yeah, I would fight for you  
I'd lie for you  
Walk the wire for you  
Yeah, I'd die for you  
You know it's true  
Everything I do  
Ohhhhhh  
I do it for you

About four minutes in, and it felt like the song was coming to a close, just as she forewarned, but he kept leading them in time with the cadence he’d set, keeping his ear open for a change in beat.

Bryan’s voice came in softly, like a little promise.

Everything I do, darling  
And we'll see it through  
Oh, we'll see it through  
Oh yeah

Then the guitar ripped to life in a lovely duet with the piano. For a moment there weren’t specific lyrics, just him vocalizing and almost murmuring. He wondered which instrument the man played as the song just faded into nothingness. Even after the song ended they were still moving to a beat they could only hear, until the next song started and Hermione broke away from his embrace to quickly shut it off. It almost hurt, how abruptly their dance and song came to an end, but it didn’t change how it impacted him and how it matched perfectly to his own thoughts, as if she’d read his mind and played it just to let him know she was aware of them.

“Hermione…” She was fiddling with the record playing machine, busying her hands in a nervous habit, pretending to not hear. She couldn’t ignore him when he came up behind her and placed his hand over hers, stilling her movement. “Do you want to tell me about that song?” he asked softly, being certain to not put any kind of tone in his voice that might make her think he was displeased with it. “Because…” he brought his other hand around her waist and pulled her into himself. “It felt like you read my mind, and that’s the one I should be choosing for you….I’ve said some of those things, never even knowing they were hidden within a song.”

Her hair bobbed as she nodded, still not looking at him. At the very least she was able to set the record-in its case-on top of the player and free her hands. Hands that she was clenching and unclenching, flexing and twiddling.

“For goodness sake, what’s wrong?” he asked, peering over her shoulder to see what she was doing. “I love the song, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It’s not that.” She said, finally speaking in what had been nearly eight minutes. 

Okay….

He waited. It was difficult; patience, but it was said to be a virtue and was rewarded when she spun around and buried her face into his chest. Taken back, he brought his hands up and let one run aimlessly through her hair.

“I like you.” She said suddenly.

He couldn’t help himself. “Well I should hope so.” He laughed.

“No Draco….I mean it.” She brought her head up, finally meeting his eyes. “I have liked you. I’ve always liked you. And that’s why it hurt so much when you picked on me, and why I kept myself so reserved when you came forward…I thought maybe…you figured it out and were set out to use it against me…”

His jaw unhinged at her confession, eyes as wide as they’d ever been.

“I couldn’t say anything! I couldn’t say a word! To anyone!” she cried, desperation in her voice as the truth was finally coming out. “They’re my best friends and you were always at odds, there was nothing I could’ve said to redeem you in their eyes. And you were a terrible prat, you were, and every time you insulted me I just felt I had to prove myself even further. I made sure I was top in class just so you’d have to acknowledge me….And last year when I punched you….God I was so fed up of it all…I just wanted to scream that I was more than what you saw on the surface-”

“I love you.” he said, cutting off her rant with his hands holding her face and his lips claiming hers, stealing her breath and her voice in one fell swoop. She pulled on his collar and devoured him just as hungrily, one hand snaking up the nape of neck and grabbing a fistful of his hair. A growl in her throat, she nipped his lip when he pulled back for breath right before diving back in, letting one of his hands slide down her form and grip tightly onto her hip. They were flush against each other, one of her feet popped up as he began to tilt her back, his other hand supporting her head in an embrace that would surely make headlines had anyone with a camera passed by.

In the next moment, she was backpedaling and he was stepping in time with her until she was parallel against the wall, beside their lab table, with him pressing her against the stony structure, his hands snaking in under the hem of her shirt, softly caressing her sides. Tearing away from her lips to catch his breath, he continued planting kisses to her neck, hearing her pant for breath.

“I was… going… to say…that.” She argued breathlessly, the corner of her eye catching how their plants were swaying in motion.

“Say what?” he teased against her skin. “Tell me what?”

She turned to face him, noticing how his eyes sparkled and how brightly his face flushed while he kept her pinned to the wall. Daring her, challenging her, wanting confirmation his feelings were reciprocated in full.

“I love you, you infuriating idiot.” She stated, pressing a hand flat against his chest. “With your brilliant mind and snarky attitude and gorgeous hair and soul piercing eyes and your annoying strut and your effortless grace and despicable charm…..all of it.” Her eyes ignited with an inner light, turning from their rich hazel into a glowing amber. 

He broke into the biggest grin and swept her into his arms, lifting her off the floor, spinning her in a circle, laughing as she hung on and curled her feet up. 

Under the glass dome, two blossoming specimens of flora embraced and emitted a different pollen from the usual, glowing gold and twinkling like stars as it begun to fill the glass enclosure. The colors of the buds’ petals brightened intensely, the stems softening in their hue, fading into paler shades of green. 

“Merlin’s Crystal Balls, I’ve wanted to hear those words from you for so long.” He gasped once they stopped spinning. “And you’re right, I’m an idiot. But I’m your idiot.”

She pulled his tie so that his neck was bent down towards her. “All mine.” She purred. 

“I told you I would be.” He nuzzled his head against hers. “And now I’m ready to tell you that thing from earlier.”  
………………………………

“It’s beautiful Nev.” She sighed, holding her left hand up and waggling her fingers in the afternoon light.

Her band of yellow gold glinted the suns’ reflection, the stones of Pink Tourmaline set between the runes. Simple in design as all promise rings went, with stones ranging from Amethyst, Rose Quartz, Pink Tourmaline, Sunstone and Moonstone. The bands ranged from standard yellow gold, white gold and silver. It wasn’t about pouring wealth into the ring in the way of engagement bands, but you certainly didn’t want to be known for having bronze when at the very least, silver was a better option.

“A little bird told me you have a fondness for pink as well.” He singsonged, booping her nose with the rose he had presented to her earlier.

“And that little bird spoke the truth.” She giggled.

They clasped hands and started their trek back to the school, content and reveling in the joy of taking their relationship to another level.  
…………………………

“What do you mean, it’s not a real proposal but it is?” Hermione demanded after Draco produced a small jewelry box from his pocket, telling her that he wanted to give her a promise ring but it couldn’t be official, thus creating the confusion.

“Hermione, listen…you know what my father thinks. You know what my mother thinks. She knows I mean well but to him it’s just another part in the façade. I have to go through with this because I told Weaselrunt I would.”

“So this is just to save your godforsaken fragile male pride?”

“No! Sort of…But that’s not the point! I want to do this!”

She shook her head and pushed him away. “Then do it for the right reasons Draco! Not to keep up appearances! You can’t give me something that important and tell me it doesn’t mean what it’s supposed to mean but want me to secretly know that it’s what you want all along! It’s confusing and heart wrenching and while I’m fine for towing the line I just can’t pretend that that ring doesn’t mean anything.”

“Hermione, you have to understand, when I’m free of my father I will be free to give you any ring I desire, anything you desire. Until then, this ring, it’s my promise to you that I’m sticking through with this til the end. It’s not just about the appearance of things-let everyone think what they want-it’s what I promise to you when I give it to you.”

“Draco….” She shook her head. “I can’t agree to that… At least not yet. I’ll have to consult my parents. It’s different for us Draco; I can’t just accept a ring without them being made aware.”

He shut the box. “Alright, fair enough. I’ll play by your rules. You’ve an owl now; tell them….whatever it is you need to. I’ll wait.”

She could tell he was hurting. His sentences tended to run shorter and tersely as he tried to mask his pain. Stepping up to him, she placed her hand over the box with the beautiful rings inside. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry I freaked out. You really caught me off guard with this.”

“Well it was supposed to be a surprise.” He replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t fail in that, did I?”

“No, you most certainly did not.” She offered a weak grin. Then sighed. “Draco, I want to wear it, I want to feel it on my finger and gaze adoringly at it, thinking of you and knowing that you’re truly mine. But the rules are different, well, not so different but just enough that I can’t accept it like that.” 

He shrugged his shoulders. “Should’ve known better.” He said glumly, hanging his head. Immediately her hand was running through his hair, the other one cupping his cheek.

“You are so incredibly thoughtful, and generous. I love that you consulted Harry when you were unsure how to go about things, and everything you’ve done to show how you really feel.” She kissed his cheek. “I’ll owl my parents and explain everything. Then we’ll see what they have to say. This doesn’t change how I feel, alright?”

He nodded once.

Taking her hand, he led her out of the lab, neither one of them sparring a glance towards their plants and the changes taking place within the dome.  
…………………………….

Harry had grown curious about pureblood courtship rituals ever since Draco started coming to him for advice on what he should do in regards to Hermione-which was one of the strangest things to happen in this already strange year-and was bending Theodore’s ear with questions about the whole ordeal after seeing the serenade. 

When the crowd dispersed, the older students returning to the castle for studying and those in their year flittering off to go back to whatever activity they had planned, and their lovebird friends each heading off into different directions, the two of them were left with nothing better to do than talk.

“Hold on, we can’t go that way.” Harry said, pulling on Theo’s arm and veering him to the left. “That’s where Draco and Hermione’s spot is and he’s got a surprise for her.”

“Really? What now?”

Harry leaned in a tad closer, as if he needed to whisper it in confidence. “He carved their initials into a tree.”

Confused marred Theo’s features. What was so significant about initials in a tree?

“It’s a muggle courting tradition.” Harry explained a beat later, seeing his friend’s face display what he hadn’t asked. “He’s trying to show Hermione that it’s not just all about him with the grand gestures and gifts. For those without magic, putting your name into the bark of a tree or even into wet cement is a way to show that your love will last.”

Theo nodded. “Ah, I can see that…..but, what’s wet cement?”

They were seated at the edge of the Black Lake, having skipped a few pebbles across its surface before the giant squid started thrashing its tentacles in obvious agitation. Harry shuddered at the thought of being dragged back into its dark depths and gladly went around to its shallow shore.

“Hey, what was it like down there anyways?” Theo asked as he took his spot and bunched his knees up.

“Dark, salty, smells like fish…” Harry deadpanned.

Theo burst into laughter. “Fascinating. Who woulda thought?” 

As if Theo’s initial laughter had granted him permission, Harry started to chuckle along. “Actually it was kind of terrifying, knowing I only had an hour, fighting my way through the murk, and then when I saw what our so-called treasures were I almost choked.”

“Yeah?” By now everyone knew that the “treasure” was actually the person that meant the most to them-on the school grounds-for there had been plenty of debate about what Hermione meant to Viktor and some speculation about what Ron meant to Harry, at that time.

“Well, if I had known that the treasure was going to be a person, someone I cared for deeply and had a choice in the say-so, then I think I would’ve picked my godfather actually. He’s the closest thing to family I have and it’d kill me if I lost him.” He confessed, eyes watering at the very thought. He quickly swiped a finger underneath his glasses and erased them. “At the time, well, things were still slightly tense from Yule but Ron was still my mate. And given that she was Viktor’s date, I’m not surprised that Hermione was selected as his treasure. Obviously, we champions weren’t supposed to know anything ahead of time. It did freaking explain why neither one was in the crowds cheering me though…”

“Yeah, Draco was pretty steamed that day.” Theo added, eyes roaming the surface of the water. “He marched down to Hogsmeade and contacted Skeeter and started those rumors, Merlin he was pissed. Can’t imagine how that must’ve felt, seeing the girl you fancy being rescued by someone else.”

Harry smirked. “Ah, so that’s why the papers started. I’m not surprised really. He talks a big game and it’s enough for most to believe but I’ve never taken anything he’s said too seriously. Unless he gets too personal, but still, he’s rather harmless.”

Theo rolled over, clutching his sides, barking like a madman. “Oh don’t let him hear you say that! He might actually unsheathe his claws and tear into you.”

Harry shrugged dismissively. “Eh, let him try. You and I both know that Hermione would rein him in with just one disapproving look.”

“You’re wicked Potter, you know that?” he nudged him with his elbow, almost making him fall over. “I’d say you make a great Slytherin.”

“Oh come on, you say that about anybody nowadays.” He laughed, pushing back.

“Only about those whom I like, and you’re on the list.”

Harry dramatically placed a hand to his chest. “I’m so honored.”

“You should be!” Theo pounced on him; tickling his sides and making him squeal and thrash about on the grass. “Oh you little ungrateful prat!” he teased, fingers running all over Harry’s ribs and hips. “Mr. Hogwarts Champion too good to be a Slytherin?”

Harry was weeping now, just gasping for breath as he flailed, letting Theo have his moment as he couldn’t fight back from laughing so hard as well as imagining how different his life might’ve been had he allowed the Hat to sort him into the snake pit. He hadn’t realized he’d given up until Theo’s hands had stopped moving, placed on either side of him, peering down into his face full of concern, brushing hair aside and checking his glasses for damage.

“I didn’t hurt you did I? Didn’t break these?” his voice was almost panicked.

“I’m fine.” Harry wheezed out, noticing for at least the second time that day that he was actually comfortable with this proximity to Theodore Nott, more so than he would’ve been with Ron, and in this position too…Why was that?

Momentarily distracted in his fret over Harry’s eyewear, Theo didn’t see it coming, and had only himself to blame when he found himself flipped onto his back with Harry pinning him down, grinning ear-to-ear like when he won the House Cup back in first year. At that point Theo let the emerald-eyed wonder have his victory.

“Ha! Who said a Gryffindor couldn’t be sneaky?” he teased, ever so pleased with himself before his glasses slid off his nose and fell right onto Theo’s face.

“Blimey!” the brunet cried out, hands reacting a second too late to shield himself. Laughing with devilish glee, Harry plucked his spectacles up and buffed them on his sleeve before extricating himself off his friends’ prone form and lying on the grass next to him.

“Sorry bout that, these things are the bane of my existence.” 

Still rubbing his smarting nose and blinking back the wetness in his eyes brought on by the impact, Theo grumbled. 

“Oh don’t be a baby or I’ll be forced to kiss it to make it feel better.”

“At least buy me dinner first.”

“Deal.”  
…………………….

Back in her room, with her at her desk and him sitting on her bed, she pulled out her stationary parchment and the new bottle of cobalt blue ink he’d purchased for her and was about to dip her quill when she turned to him.

“Draco…I think you ought to write to my parents as well.” She said boldly.

She could’ve knocked him over with her quill in that moment, his astonishment freezing him into a shock-faced pureblood who never had even spoken a word to a muggle, let alone written a letter to one.

In his silence, she continued. “They know all about you from my point of view, and it would help your case if you presented yourself as the gentleman you claim to be, reaching out to them as tradition dictates in courting. Just as long as you stick with the truth you won’t have anything to worry about.”

“Oh right!” he scoffed, tossing his head back. “Me, the guy who called you names and tried underhand tactics to bring you down and spread rumors about you being a floozy. Sure, nothing to worry about.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I sent them the picture Angelina took of us. They know you adore me. Now you need to prove it.”

He met her challenging eyes with his own. 

“What do you think is going to happen when you meet them?” she dared him. “You want them to be optimistic, to have a positive opinion of you, to see that you’ve changed….. That is…unless that doesn’t really matter to you…”

He fell backwards onto her mattress. “Gods, Granger you were truly meant to be Slytherin after all. Guilt tripping me better than any pureblood Daddy’s Girl ever could.”

She beamed at the compliment. Even more so when he propped himself up and his hair fell over his eyes and he glared her with those adoring soul-piercing orbs that made her heart skip a beat. “Just because I love you doesn’t mean you get away with everything.”

She stood up, bringing a few sheets of parchment. “Yes it does.” she happily countered, dropping the leaf bundle into his lap. “Make use of those talented hands and write something befitting a princely Slytherin.”

“I expect some kind of compensation for this arduous task.” He rebutted, watching the side of her lip tilt upwards. 

“I’ll think up something.”  
………………………….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry about the slight delay in getting this chapter out.
> 
> I'd like to say I'm the Master and Commander of my life and that everything I plan out works, but we all know that's bullshit at best. I've been dealing with an ornery 7yr old testing her limits with everything, dealing with the freaking Artic cold blast we've had barreling through actually plays havoc with my joints and gives me migraines. So even if I'm in bed, there are times I can't even look at a screen, let alone type when I'm medicated. 
> 
> But I will try to remain consistent with an approx 10 day upload. Bear with me as I am also author of two other fics consecutively and you're welcome to dive right into those as they are mere babies compared to the length this epic tale is becoming. 
> 
> Not sure how long this is will be running but I'd like to say maybe about 10 more chapters? A nice round number to estimate. And yes, I do plan to carry this story onward into a series, not sure how many years but I try not to plan that far ahead or I'll start working on it and then it might not fit with stuff that needs to happen beforehand....No skipping ahead! must stay on track! Yes, I need to tell myself this at times.  
> Anyway, enjoy.


	68. Correspondence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversation via owl mail between Hermione, Draco and her parents  
> Pog battle with Tracey Davis and Anthony Goldstein  
> Discovery made with the plants. Snape speaks with them alone.  
> Neville is officially the Slytherin's favorite lion.

Dear Mum & Dad,

As you’re well aware, the situation with Draco and myself has changed significantly, and I’d like for the two of you to keep an open mind when I say that this isn’t some flight-of-fancy being driven by hormones. I’ve kept you apprised of the wizarding culture as much as I possibly can and I know you have reservations about the way certain things are handled. Which is why it is so imperative that the pair of you realize what a momentous thing this is when I say that Draco would like to gift a promise ring to me as a way to show his sincerity in the tradition of a pureblood courting.  
This does not mean that I am going to give myself to him or allow him to touch me inappropriately-he has been every bit the gentleman in all regards-so no, this ring does not mean I’m up the duff and in trouble. It’s been explained to me by several other of my pureblood and halfbood friends that it simply states a couple is starting to take their relationship seriously and will not seek out any other. The wizarding community is all very prim and proper when it comes to things like that, after all, that’s how some family feuds got started….  
Anyway, I am informing you of this ahead of time so it won’t come as a shock at the end of term. I’d very much like to accept his ring and he wants your approval. Included is his own letter-that I did NOT coach him on-so please forgive any unfamiliar terms or phrasing he uses. I’ll do my best to explain any misunderstandings and help forge a bridge of acquaintance between the lot of you.  
PS: the owl is named Penelope and she is a gift from Draco’s mother.

With love, Hermione  
………………………………..

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Granger,

I understand this is out of the norm but my name is Draco Lucius Malfoy and I am the young wizard courting your daughter. Yes, you may recall I was also the boy that bullied her and for that I must apologize. You must understand, I come from a long line of prestigious pureblood marriages that were arranged for the sake of keeping the blood line pure as well as making strong alliances. I am the heir and scion of two noble lines; The Malfoy (my father’s) and the Black (my mother’s). It was instilled in me since birth that I was better than most of wizarding society and that those like Hermione were looked down upon as a blight and to be disregarded.  
I had to disguise my affection for her under the cover of insults and cruelty, using derogative terms taught to me by my father, who unfortunately still holds onto those beliefs. My mother however does not, and has met Miss Hermione and is already quite taken with her. I can assure you that my mother and I have her best interests at heart and the true nature of the relationship between your daughter and I is kept secret from my father.  
And in regards to my father, well…. It pains me to say, but he is not the man I once idolized and obeyed without hesitation. He has done terrible things in his past that I have recently discovered, and my mother and I have gathered evidence to present to the Wizengamot (that would be our judicial system) once school ends. It will cause quite the uproar in our society, my family’s name tarnished possibly beyond repair, but no matter what my last name is, my feelings for Miss Hermione have not changed nor will they. Divorce is uncommon, especially for those betrothed by arranged marriage, I am unsure what path my life will go after this, even if we are systematically stripped of our wealth, I will give all I have to provide for Miss Hermione when we come of age.  
All I ask, is for your blessing.

Most sincerely, DLM  
……………………………………  
Dearest,

Your owl is most beautiful, Mrs. Malfoy has impeccable taste (I can see your eyes rolling so perfectly but I couldn’t help myself) and we will gladly welcome the lovely avian into our home. We’ll start clearing out space in family room for her cage so it’s ready when you come home.  
Now, in regards to your relationship with this boy… Needless to say we have concerns and probably more so than the usual since it would appear there is some legal/domestic dispute between his parents that will be happening soon? He spoke of his family lineage and apparent abundance of wealth-which may or may not have been acquired by legal means? Is he worried that we’ll only see him for the size of his pocketbook? That should have no bearing, but it draws our concern that his father may be some type of criminal and therefore any connection you have to that family might paint a target on your back.  
We’re not opposed to young love, not at all. And to hear that you’ve gone from enemies, to friends, and now to this warms our hearts greatly. It is the kind of thing that makes for grand literature. It isn’t like we can march right up to the school and demand the two of you be separated, especially since you’ve somehow managed to switch Houses and are now in even closer proximity with him. Do remember our talk we had over this summer before school began and despite whatever urges you feel please use your head and refrain from any inappropriate actions. You do not want to lose these precious years with early parenthood.  
Are you absolutely certain that this promise ring business is as simple as you make it sound? From what you’ve told us about the way wizards work, nothing is as simple as it seems, and we don’t want you accidentally getting yourself into something you may regret. Is there a particular reason why this needs to happen now as opposed to after the summer? Surely it would be better for the two of you if your relationship didn’t get mixed into the chaos that inevitably will encompass all the papers and gossip when they turn his father in? And how can we trust that this Wizengamot thing won’t be easily bought? What if he and his mother’s plan to turn in evidence against him backfires terribly? What will become of them?  
We’ve no doubts that he is as bright as you are and that the two of you have thought heavily on this, the poor lad seems to be under tremendous pressure, but do not act rashly merely due to a heightened emotional situation. If you can keep cool heads until the end of term, when we can properly meet the boy, that would be most preferred. Besides, from what we’ve gathered, he is not even fifteen yet and this feels just for a lack of a better word, odd, that as young as he is, he is contemplating such serious matters.  
PS: love this ink by the way

With love, Mum & Dad  
………………………………  
Dearest Draco,

Your letter was most intriguing and heartfelt. Had we not been informed of your change of heart-or perhaps, just change in behavior-and been provided evidence of your endearing feelings for our daughter we might have disregarded this letter as asskissery at its finest. You certainly have a way with words, even on paper. I sincerely hope for your sake that such words are meant wholeheartedly and that if they are nothing but empty promises then it is best to not waste anyone’s time and put an end to this charade.  
It is not so uncommon for a young man to come forward and declare his feelings to the parents of the girl he fancies, it happens less and less with each generation but doing so shows integrity. It can be harrowing, writing to a complete stranger, let alone speaking with one in the hopes of getting along. Trust me young man, we’ve heard all about you, the good and the bad. You’ve managed to pull yourself up from the quagmire of your own violation and convince our brilliant daughter that you are somehow worthy of her-congratulations on that by the way, we had a bet going but that’s neither here nor there-and if you can do that then the rest should be smooth sailing, eh?  
You mentioned your parents are at odds with not only their beliefs but also apparently on where they stand with the law, and that you and your mother intend to bring your father to justice for some criminal activities? We worry, not for the scandal but for your and your mother’s safety once this comes to light. If he is a powerful and influential man then he may have men at his disposal to harm those who have wronged him. You and your mother may have go into police custody and hide for your well-being and we simply cannot risk our daughter’s life by letting it be known that you two have made your relationship public and serious.  
The two of you are young and bright, and are safe within the school, as you should be, enjoy the time you have together and don’t let your emotions and fear of the uncertain future sway into a hasty decision that the two of you may regret. We’d love the chance to meet you and your mother in person, perhaps once this whole messy business with your father is concluded we can give a definitive answer.

Until then, 

The Grangers  
…………………………..

SUNDAY, May 21st 1995

Draco sighed and set the letter down, throwing his head back.

“They basically said no. Why am I not surprised?”

Hermione leaned over the table and plucked the letter up as their surrounding friends were finishing breakfast and opening their mail and the editions of the school paper. Neville’s serenade making front page, obviously. The entire first half was filled with a random assortment of pictures taken by Colin and Angelina.

Her honeyed eyes scanned over her parents’ letter with ferocious speed, devouring their written response in the way many imagined how Professor McGonagall graded papers. A few seconds later, she was placing the missive down, face first, and tilting her head at her adorable boyfriend.

“Draco, they did not say no.” she stated calmly, sweetly. “If anything, it’s a delayed yes.”

“What’s going on now?” Blaise piped up, scooting the newspaper towards the middle of the table, leaving it up for grabs. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Hardly.” Hermione replied. “Draco’s just not pleased with my parents wanting him to wait until the summer to give me his promise ring.”

The Italian-Brit laughed. “To him, that’s as good as No.”

Draco rolled his eyes, arms crossed as his friend nudged him. “Don’t be such a sourpuss Draco, they could’ve told you to keep a five foot distance from her for the rest of term so a “delayed yes” sounds pretty good to me.” he said.

“I’m sorry.” Neville said, pulling his ring bearing hand from the table and setting it in his lap. “I suppose seeing Pansy and I with ours is like rubbing salt into a wound.”

Draco waved off the apology. “It’s not your fault Nev. You’ve done everything right and you shouldn’t let this situation affect your obvious elation with Pansy.”

“Noble of you.” Pansy remarked dryly. “You almost sounded like a Gryffindor there.”

Harry and Theo burst into snickers, the joke about Theo making a Gryffindor Draco portrait playing in their devious minds.

“Oh get a room.” The dragon sneered.

“Which reminds me….” Theo drawled. “I have a painting to finish.” He took to his feet and bowed dramatically, extending his hand to Harry. “Come along Muse, your presence is integral to finishing my magnum opus.”

Harry grinned and played like a coquettish model. “Oh if you insist.” he replied, taking his hand and traipsing off to the art classroom.

“Those two…” Mils mumbled, shaking her head as she was looking over Tracey’s shoulder, glancing at the catalogue in her hands, advertising something called POGS. “Hey what’s that?” she asked, pointing to the image of what appeared to be various kinds of medallions.

“Oh those are the slammers, you use them to knock over the stack of milk caps and any that fall face up are yours to keep.” She answered, eyes roving over the holographic, saw tooth edged one. “Oh momma….” She sighed. “That’s a beaut.”

“Wait, are they Pogs or milk caps?” she asked in a completely innocent voice.

“Both.” Hermione and Tracey answered in unison, turning to let out a little laugh.

Tracey held out her hand. “If you please Professor, do enlighten the class.”

Hermione lolled her head and sighed, but the nickname was good-natured and therefore left alone. “The game has many names including Hero Caps, Skycaps, and Flipper Caps. The actual gameplay behind pogs has long been attributed to the classic Japanese game of Menko, which has been popular since the Edo Period between 1603 and 1867 and also centered on players attempting to flip the cards or pieces of their opponent. Much like modern pogs, the original Menko playing pieces are roughly the size of milk caps and feature images of Japanese cultural icons, like wrestlers and warriors. These pieces aren't made out of cardboard or plastic, but shaped from clay, wood, or ceramics.”

The group of pureblood and halfblood Slytherins (and token Gryffindor) held onto her every word.

“Japanese immigrants then brought the game with them when they settled in Hawaii in the early 20th century. Industrious kids started using milk bottle caps as Menko playing pieces—they were, after all, rigid enough and the right size—and the game of Menko started evolving. For decades, Menko was a favorite game of Hawaiians, including the woman who helped transform it into one of the current fads. In 1991, teacher Blossom Galbiso reintroduced the game to the world when she taught her beloved childhood diversion to her students. Galbiso favored the game because she believed it helped teach math skills and provided her pupils with a fun game that didn’t require any dodgeball-style potentially dangerous physical activity.”

She took a breath, watching all their faces. Even Tracey’s showed astonishment.

“And the name Pog… as we know them sprang from a brand of juice popular in Hawaii around the time Galbiso and her students were bringing the game back. POG juice was made from Passion fruit, Orange, and Guava-” she held up three fingers to indicate it was an acronym based on the first letter of each fruit. “-Giving the drink its name. Like classic milk bottle caps, POG tops were round, flat, and made out of cardboard.”

She stopped, pressing her hands together. “And there you have it….”

Tracey blinked several times. “Is there anything you DON’T know?”

Her cheeks flushed. “I was curious about them, so I did some research. These and Pokémon cards are everywhere, both originating from Japan, becoming instant trends in American and over here. Had to see what the fuss was all about.” She added with a nonchalant shrug.

“You’d make a great Muggle Studies professor.” Neville stated, to which both Hermione and Draco gave a knowing smile to each other. “Speaking of, I’m sorry I completely forgot about the plant project yesterday and I’m totally ready to help make up for that in any way.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, now that you mention it, we did too!” she cried, sharing her abject horror in Draco’s direction. 

“Well I guess that means class is adjourned.” Blaise quipped. “Best scamper off and find something to do since all my best mates want to go flirt with school projects.”

“Jealous much?” Draco grinned.

“Ha!” he threw his head back dramatically and laughed. “I don’t need to use an assignment as a means to find time alone with a bird unlike you swots.”

Draco shot him a scathing look. “It’s not an excuse; we’re actually doing important research-”

“Which is exactly what a swot would say.” Blaise grinned, getting a rise out of his pale friend.

Hermione held her hand out, preventing him from having a verbal outburst. “Blaise, if you’re curious and promise not to touch anything, you’re welcome to come with us and see what it is we do.”

“Why thank you princess, I’d be delighted.” He accepted with all the grace of his proper upbringing. He got to his feet. “Ladies.” He inclined his head towards the four Slytherin girls. Neville placed a chaste kiss to Pansy’s cheek and left with his Slytherin company as Pansy didn’t want to impede on his passion even though the project was technically Draco and Hermione’s. And as long as Daphne got her fair share of attention she wasn’t throwing a fit and it just made everything easier all around.

Hermione’s informative explanation of the game of Pogs had fueled Tracey into fetching her collection and showing them to her and the others. For simple circles of cardboard with a flashy design on one side they certainly made for an interesting game. At first Pansy, Mils, and Daph were timid about slamming the medal disk onto the pile of caps, and after some other muggleborns realized what was going on and brought theirs out, the natural competitive drive started to show itself and the stakes climbed.

Tracey played for keeps and was ruthless, using a move that was quite effective in flipping the caps and earning more for herself. Justin Finch-Fletchly sighed as she scooped a hefty pile towards herself with glee, taking several of his Power Rangers themed ones in one fell swoop. He almost cried when she started divvying up her new acquisitions amongst the trio so they had some to work with. She had to share her slammer until someone was bright enough to suggest using a galleon. Colin patted his shoulder in sympathy having lost his newly bought Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle set earlier, watching as Daphne scrutinized the artwork with obvious disdain. After seeing his brother lose the Turtle pogs, Dennis started picking out coveted caps from his playing stack and shoving them back into his tube.

The sounds of cardboard caps sliding along the table’s surface along with the poignant ping of the coinlike slammer had drawn in a curious crowd, encouraging others to Accio their tubes and break out into little dueling pairs. Gently pushing Justin aside Anthony slid up to the bench across from Tracey and flashed her a devious grin.

“So, playing for keeps Trace?” he asked as he held his hand aloft, waiting for a thick chunk of metal to slowly slide out of his unsurprisingly royal blue Pog tube. Her eyes rounded like saucers at the hefty slammer once it revealed itself, an unprecedented inch thick solid cylindrical weight of brass that he affixed a homemade Ravenclaw crest onto.

“No….way…” her jaw dropped. She’d only seen those in catalogues but not in person. Tower chunkers for sure, the weight alone was guaranteed to knock down plenty. They weighed several ounces.

“Oh?” he perked up a dark blond brow. “I thought that was the case, seeing as you just handed Fletchly his Hufflepuff arse.”

“I always play for keeps.” She assured, snapping herself out of her awe and getting back into her game mindset. 

“Excellent.” He chirped all too merrily to her growing unease. She’d never played against a slammer like that and was rightly concerned. “Ladies first, by all means.”

Taking the offered opportunity to her advantage, Tracey carefully scrutinized the stack of pogs, neatly tucked together so not a single one protruded outwards enough to provide a lever in flipping any. She’d have to resort to her method of aiming for the side and hitting that sweet spot which worked wonders in upending several top laying caps. The crowd was quiet and still, she inhaled slowly and held her breath, calculating the exact spot she wanted to hit, seeing a slight dent in the top Pog. If she hit that, it would be bound to somersault and take several companions with it.

Her hand was steady and her aim true, the result was beautiful as the little cardboard disks flew into the air in a colorful spray as their audience cheered. She beamed a glimmering smile as she plucked up her newly acquired caps and scooted them into her pool. Anthony met her with a slow clap and single nod.

“Not bad love.” He replied. “For a snake.”

The crowd hushed once more. This sounded personal.

He boldly added ten to the remaining stack, caging the tower as he smoothed it into a perfect cylinder. “Now watch how the eagles do it.”

To her horror, he took to his feet; one hand braced on the table surface as the other held the terrifying chunk of brass and slowly began to ascend his arm as he calculated the distance he would need for optimal effect. Everyone collectively held their breath.

And then the slammer dropped.

It hit right on the edge of the top Pog, with a resounding thud and as it clanged onto the wooden surface of the table as pogs rained down upon them like they’d been shot from a canon, spraying across a distance of nearly two feet with several spinning and rolling along their thin edge until finally falling, leaving just a threadbare few left at the bottom where the stack originated. It was like a volcanic eruption. 

Tracey felt her jaw unhinge as she saw several pogs get plucked and carefully added to his pool, several that were originally hers and several she’d just acquired. She’d never had such a devastating loss since learning how to play. To add further fuel to her ire she sucked in a breath as Anthony flicked a few Power Ranger and Turtle pogs back to their original owners, Colin and Justin unabashedly thanking him as they secured the coveted caps back into their tubes.

It wasn’t so much that she hated to lose-come on who didn’t?-but in the publicly humiliating way that it had just happened was a blow to her esteemed ego. It wasn’t like she’d boldly advertised her love for the game in front of anyone and would often just idly play by herself when she was bored, just to keep her skills up. Now that she’d outed herself as an avid Pog player and suffered a terrible loss-and to her crush no less!-she wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to confidently toss a slammer again.

“Not a bad game at all.” Goldstein stated, offering his hand across the table to her. “You had everyone on the ropes for a while.”

Ignoring his hand, she scooped up her remaining caps and made herself focus intently on shoving them into the tube. “Lot of good it did.” She snorted.

His hand covered hers as they reached for the same pog at the same time, one of her sparkly Sailor Moon ones. “How bout another game sometime?”

“Ha! So you can drop a literal bomb and decimate my stack?” she yanked her hand free. “That hunk of metal ought to be banned.”

“It would be grossly sexiest of me to allow you a win merely based on your gender, wouldn’t it?” he countered, bringing his arms up to cross as he looked down at her. “From the way you attack friend and foe alike you certainly don’t discriminate between the sexes.”

She straightened her back and firmly snapped the lid tight on the tube. “You can’t teach if you play favorites and go soft. It’s the rules of the game-”

“Precisely.” He interjected. Several of their classmates nearby knew that tone, that final word tone from him.

“Then you shouldn’t be upset by a single loss.”

She bristled at the statement, however true it was, it was not the case for her anger. She tossed Mils a signaling jut of her chin to indicate they leave. Without giving Anthony a parting word or back glance, she looped her arm in with her friend’s and left the Great Hall hearing an echoing “oooooh” being tossed in his direction for whatever he’d done to upset her.

…………………………….

“So you somehow wrangled Longbottom into doing your part of the experiment? Why am I not surprised” Blaise laughed as Neville undid the ward to the lab and held open the door, allowing all three Slytherins to enter before closing the door and setting up the protective and silencing wards.

“No Zabini, I did not wrangle him into anything.” Draco scoffed, hands on his hips as he turned to his friend. “If you care to recall, we’ve been taking lessons in karate thanks to Granger and Chang’s guidance. I can’t be learning to effectively disarm and dodge an attack while carefully extracting pollen and nectar from flowers at the same time.”

His hand motioned to the other side of the room, clearly arranged with the padded mats and targets. It was obvious what that portion of the room was used for. And given the recent turn of events, why the lessons were proving actually more of a necessity than satisfying a curiosity. 

Neville and Hermione immediately set to work in the usual rhythm of checking all petri dishes for any sign of change within, ticking the boxes in their notes to indicate if there had been or not, and then on the procured samples themselves, seeing as they were always in need of more pollen and nectar extract after each subsequent test. Lastly, they turned their attention to the glass dome with the two original paired plants they’d taken from Herbology. Every day they kept Professor Sprout appraised of their flowers health and condition, giving them spare time in glass to either help out their classmates or even work on other assignments. It was too late in the term for them to start nursing another sprout for participation points and the Head of Hufflepuff allowed it for the sake of their unified project from Snape.

Immediately, there was something different about the Snowdrop and Dragon’s Breath that caused a noticeable hitch in breath which caught the attention of the two Slytherins. Just in time too, for Draco was just about to show Blaise what is was he’d been learning in the martial art…

“What’s happened?”

Gobsmacked in confusion, all she did was point to his Narcissus and her Galanthus, whose colors had brightly intensified to damn near glowing in the daylight. Naturally, he stepped closer and scrutinized the petals of his Herbology assignment. He’d never seen the Dragon’s Breath with such blood red and blinding yellow tones before, or how the stem and leaves of the plant seemed drained of color.

“Is this because we didn’t water them?” he asked.

Neville shook his head. “No, nothing as insignificant as a day’s loss of water-which by the way watering every day is actually too much-would bring about such a drastic change like this.” He fiddled around with a stack of nearby books, uncovering the precious tome he recognized as his mother’s gift to Hermione. With shocked eyes, he searched her face for an explanation.

“What?…I was letting him become familiar with our flowers, and you know he’d never let anything happen to it.” She said defensively. Regardless of how true that was, he still felt unease about it being stashed away in her lab, never minding how well warded it was when not occupied. “Quit fretting.”

Neville was carefully running his finger along the page, since Dragon’s Breath came before Snowdrop alphabetically. “It doesn’t say anything in here about how or why there’d be such a change…” Then he began flipping the pages with a practiced hand, making his way to the Snowdrop. His eyes roved over the passage dedicated to the wispy flora but again nothing mentioned what could be responsible for an overnight change in appearance.

“Does stuff like this happen often?” Blaise asked tentatively, watching the trio don their thinking caps over this newest discovery.

“Undoubtedly.” Draco answered. It seemed that while they weren’t getting the results they wanted or even expected they were always getting something else when it came to those two buds. He recalled how he and Hermione first came to realize that their plants were compatible opposites, then with how they had a strong enough magical connection to their specific plant that it created some kind of, what had Neville called it? a botanical bond, and now this?

Hermione was picking up the vial that had collected the vaporous extraction, holding it close to her eye and humming to herself. “What was it Snape said about the potion? The legend?”

The boys fell silent in thought.

~Opposites are what bring us together in nature. There is light and darkness, poison and salve. And those elements resonate within each of us. There is a legend regarding two enemies who came together to brew a potion, a single goal in mind, to end the war between their factions. The resulting solution became a legend, lost in the anoles of time and probably never existed at all….~

“Did we even decide what our potion would be?” she prompted, rolling their Potion Master’s words over in her mind. “We’ve been throwing together two flower extractions and applying it to non-edible potions but for what?....Maybe that’s why nothing’s happened, because we haven’t even designated what it is we’re trying to make…just because they’re opposites doesn’t mean they’ll cause an opposite reaction…”

Blaise carefully took in the details of the three classmates before him. Contemplative. Methodical. Curious. How Neville looked at her admiration as a friend and how Draco looked at her with the admiration of someone in love. And all the while, her eyes were fixed on a glass tube with a golden hued substance inside. Apparently, this was different from the usual, hence the meeting of minds.

“Did something noteworthy happen here yesterday perhaps?” he suggested, knowing the room was multi-purposed now and could house any sort of gathering. Given that the plants were magically bonded to their caretakers, some abrupt change in their mood could very well affect the sensitive plants.

Draco ad Hermione’s eyes met and their cheeks flushed with a silent exchange.

“Ok, out with it.” he ordered of them, in no mood to try to repair yet another fantastic fuck up that Malfoy was oddly proficient at. “What happened in here between you two?”

Hermione spoke up first, tucking hair behind her ear. “We danced.”

Blaise waited for the other shoe to drop. “And?”

“And what Blaise?” Draco snapped. “You want every bloody detail of what I do with my girl?”

“In this instance, yes.” He deadpanned without missing a beat.

The blond tensed and was about to retort when the usually quiet and introverted Gryffindor placed a hand on his upper arm and in a calm, reassuring voice, told him that it was in the name of discovery and to verify their theory. In a move that he’d only believe having seen it, he met Hermione’s eyes and she nodded, silently conveying it was alright to divulge the details.

It took him a moment, gathering his bearings and trying to figure out how to word it and not make it sound so cheap, but in the end he knew nothing he could say would ever fully encompass the moment he and Hermione shared. “We finally confessed our feelings for each other.” He tossed his Slytherin friend a steely glance. “The L word was used, there was kissing, you know how it goes…. Happy now?”

“Congratulazioni.” Blaise responded, making an open hand gesture as if to push goodwill and happy thoughts their way. 

Draco turned back to Neville. “But we didn’t touch the lab table in any way. Didn’t touch the flowers or anything. We then argued a bit about the promise ring because of our different cultural backgrounds and left. Neither one of us noticed anything.”

Neville took in a breath and let it out, then motioned to Hermione to hand him the vial. “I didn’t want to say anything on the chance I was wrong, but I think there’s no denying it now.” He held up the vial so everyone could have a better glimpse. “There’s a reason why you have such a strong bond to your individual flower, there’s a reason why they’re opposite but compatible.” His eye darted between the couple. “And for this change in the plant’s extractions.”

There was a beat of silence.

“It’s because… The two of you are as compatible as can be. Intellectually, magically… I wouldn’t be so bold as to say Soulmates, but something quite close to it.”

There was another moment of contemplative silence.

“Oh that actually makes sense.” Blaise commented, checking the facts in his head. “Makes a lot of sense actually.” So much of those two idiots’ behavior now finally made sense.

“And I think that the two of you finally expressing your genuine affection for each other triggered the flowers into releasing their true essence.” He gave the vial a tiny little shake, stirring its contents. “This is probably why nothing has happened with all the samples, because we weren’t working with the right component.”

A pin drop could’ve been heard in the following silence.

And then Hermione gasped.

And her eyes started to water.

And her hands began to shake as her body started shifting as the epiphany hit her.

“Oh my goodness…that’s it isn’t it?” she said out loud, eyes fixed on the vial. “The enemies….putting an end to their war….with love….”

“Well you weren’t kidding about the important research part.” Blaise said to Draco.

…………………………..

Severus finished reaffixing the label to a bottle turned in by one of his second year students, rolling his eyes at the incompetence of their hastily applied sticking charm. It would seem that a lesson in proper labeling would be in order for them as well at the first years’. It was absolutely integral to know what ingredients one was grabbing as several potions could look alike.

He’d finally shooed Moody away, growing unease with his very presence as his suspicions rose with every interaction with the former Auror. If what Dumbledore shared with him was true, based on information gathered by those intuitive and meddlesome students, then he was dealing with a fanatic follower of the Dark Lord and the real Alastor Moody was being secured somewhere nearby in order to supply living hair follicles for Polyjuice. As it stood, everything was conjecture but he was keeping a more vigilant eye on the DADA professor all the more now.

Especially after every time he left his classroom, checking to see if he’d pilfered any ingredients. Severus had cracked down even harder on his pupils in the importance of a clean workspace and being responsible for all their supplies-their personal as well as school provided. It unnerved him every time the man stood near his private cabinet, eyeing the contents within. Curiosity could only carry so far. The man was looking for something, he could just feel it.

Glad that he’d just placed the bottle back on the shelf, for it was then that the brilliant illuminating form of a graceful peacock flew into his room and spoke with his godson’s voice.

“Professor, there’s been a breakthrough with our plants and we need you to come to our lab to confirm.”

His hand wavered. Had the bottle still been held within he probably would’ve dropped it. They couldn’t possibly….It was too soon….Surely they were mistaken with something…  
He wasted no time in exiting the classroom, in his haste, not securing the room with strong enough wards…

…………………………….

Neville and Blaise were prominently booted from the lab, upon their departure a silencing charm was set in place. The two shrugged, figuring there was no point in hanging around in an empty hallway, and went for a walk. The two were silent at first, never really having a conversation one-on-one.

Oddly, Blaise broke the ice first.

“You know, my mother would’ve actually liked your performance yesterday.” He stated, hands shoved into pockets. “She’s an opera singer, in case you didn’t know…”

Neville had though. The often wed Signora Zabini had made a name for herself in more than just her career path. But Augusta Longbottom was a fan of the singer and had a few of her English albums. “Thank you Blaise. I know Pansy has several of you looking out for her and if I had embarrassed her in any that I’d be strung up by the Quidditch post.”

Blaise threw his head back and laughed. “Oh please, like we have anything to worry about from you. You’re a cakewalk compared to those two idiots.” He indicated with a jerk of his head at the room they just vacated. “What’d you reckon Snape shut us out for? It’s not like we don’t know how they feel about each other…”

“I think it goes deeper than that.”

“Like how? Didn’t they just do what they set out to do?”

Neville nibbled his bottom lip. “Ah, well, you know it’s different for them. I think there’s more than just the potion Professor Snape is concerned about. Hermione hasn’t had the smoothest transition and requires a bodyguard at all times, right?”

The Italian nodded. “Yeah, once the news broke there were death threats and the like that he had to deal with. And with that fight in Hogsmeade it only proves how hard of a time they’ll have out there. I really feel for them, he’s my mate and all but I know firsthand that blood doesn’t make the difference most think. Mum’s remarried four times now and all my stepdad’s have either been halfblood or pureblood, with the last one being muggleborn.”

Oh, now that Neville did not know.

“But hey, nuf about me, why don’t you tell me how you learned how to play that little thing? You got any other instruments at home? I actually dabble with a mandolin at times….”

……………………………

By the time everyone reconvened for dinner, there was a difference in the atmosphere as they settled onto the bench and took their plates. For starters, there were noticeable paint splatters adorning both Theodore and Harry’s clothing that hadn’t been Scourgified away, along with smudgings in their hair that they were oblivious to. Blaise made a spectacle in pointing it out, teasing them relentlessly, watching their faces turn red to his delight.

Blaise was sitting beside Neville, and the two were still talking music, muggle and wizarding alike and what they preferred. Pansy was all smiles, seeing her boyfriend being accepted by her closest friends, as Theo and Blaise were like brothers to her. Draco of course being like a brother but also being an ex made for that slight difference in which she worried there might’ve been unresolved feelings. The fact that Draco hadn’t dragged him into an alcove and threaten to beat him within an inch of life if he ever hurt her spoke volumes as it showed that he already had his trust. She knew Blaise would be a harder sell as he was the crafty one with words and reading between the lines.

Lately, Theo had been too absorbed in his newfound friendship with Harry to give two owl shits but as long as he was unbothered then she didn’t really have anything to worry about. She actually had a harder time convincing Daphne that Neville had outstanding qualities and was a perfect match for her, that she wasn’t “settling” just because things didn’t work out with Draco. And yet, Daphne still held a candle for the blond despite his obvious fawning over his precious muggleborn. She could practically see the wrackspurts Luna was rambling on about. Boy was head over heels and it would seem that Hermione was too. 

The silver couple, as they’d been dubbed in the papers were oddly quiet but sitting close together, Draco’s arm wrapped around her waist, practically pulling her into his lap. Their discussion with Snape had been enlightening to say the least, ending with a thirty point addition to the Slytherin House points hourglass, as Hermione refused to accept additional points just because she was now Slytherin as opposed to being a Gryffindor when she started the project. Snape muttered something about her “not being fully Slytherin” as he left, concluding their project complete in his departure. They were still free to conduct any further experiments but only on their own time and to not expect any point compensation for any discoveries made in the time left of the term. Hermione had requested that points be awarded to Gryffindor for Neville’s assistance, and he reluctantly, begrudgingly, and hesitantly relented with a generous five points in the boy’s favor.

Neville visibly reddened when he heard he had specifically earned five points from the professor he cowered from. Pansy leaned her head on his shoulder and nudged his arm. “Maybe he’s growing on you.” She teased.

“Oh please no, he’d be worse than Devil’s Snare.” Neville laughed, to which the rest of the Slytherins gasped, choked, snorted, and chortled at his joke. The day Neville Longbottom cracked a joke about Professor Snape was a day no one ever saw coming.

Blaise clapped him on the shoulder and leaned against him. “Ok, I officially like you.”

Neville smirked. “Sorry mate, I’m already taken.”

Theo roared “Ohhhhhhhh no he didn’t!” as the rest of the table broke into hysterical laughter, even Blaise, proud to take a zing from Longbottom.

McGonagall and Snape shared a silent but approving look with one another, utterly taken for a loop around the Quidditch pitch with this convergence of their houses.  
………………………………..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Attention please, ladies and gentlemen, this is a public service announcement.   
> For those of you who may not have seen the notifications posted on the Facebook groups, or even on the tail end of my other two works, I sustained a severe back injury and had to go to the ER to be seen. I'm on medication and ordered bedrest but that doesn't always equate to being able to work, as I now have trouble sitting upright for prolonged periods of time. I will have to go in to be seen by a specialist to see what can be done because I do not want to be reduced to a screaming/crying/weeping mess that needs narcotics just to function.  
> Bare with me as updates may not be in a timely fashion.  
> There is also an issue happening with my family that now requires me to clear out a spare room to move them in and not much time to get it done, fucking perfectly timed with me rendering myself almost useless, just my fucking luck.  
> I do not have any future chapters typed up so you are fully caught up at the moment. I have to think long and hard about how I'm going to set up these next few chapters anyways, so patience is appreciated. Well wishes, kudos, happy gifs, anything to perk me up at this time will be gladly accepted.


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